


Empire of Dirt

by ChaoticMimzy



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Eventual Smut, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Magic, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 131,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticMimzy/pseuds/ChaoticMimzy
Summary: 18 year old Sal Fisher is uprooted from his home in New Jersey to the deep south of New Orleans, Louisiana, after his father receives the job offer of a lifetime. New Orleans is known as the Crescent City, land of Mardi Gras and voodoo, but other creatures lurk within the shadows. Sal stumbles upon these creatures on accident, and his life is thrown into chaos.





	1. New Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, first fanfiction for Sally Face. this game owns my soul. This fic is loosely based on Lost Boys (movie), and is set in the late-80s early-90s. All characters in here are 17+ unless otherwise stated. I'm afraid I won't have a consistent updating schedule, so bear with me, okay? There will be depictions of violence and blood in here- it is a vampire AU, after all.  
> Also, yes, Larry and Ashley both have THICK southern accents. I find there's a severe lack of southern accents and since I myself am from the deep south, thought I'd add that on in.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! (Pls leave feedback thanks)  
> **EDIT: Fixed the layout & added a date stamp.

_“If I could start again,_  
_a million miles away…”_  
- _Hurt_ , Nine Inch Nails  


* * *

August 28th, 1991

* * *

Heat- stifling, heavy, damp- weighed upon pale shoulders as soon as the car door opened. The sound of cicadas screaming pierced the air like a jet engine, loud enough to make his ears ache. The smell of sea water permeated the air, right along with the drifting scent of summer air, which held its own sort of smell, nothing like how it was back home in New Jersey. Their apartment had been nice, two bedrooms and a nice bathroom, a nice view of the city. Everything was good, back then. Even if it had been years after mom had passed away, it was still nice. It was still home. 

This place wasn’t home. It would never be home. 

Fingers flexed, stretching out from their cramped position, clutched around a red Nintendo Gameboy. Vivid cornflower blue hues, one natural, one false, squinted in the bright summer sunlight, somehow managing to look even brighter so far south. Annoying, hot, stifling, too bright. Lip curling behind the ceramic prosthetic mask, the boy stared up at the new house- could it be called a house? Or was it more like an apartment building?- they would be staying in. Addison Apartments, though it was short, squat, like all the other buildings here. Well, aside from that one bank building, and the hotels, and a few other tall buildings that were in the heart of New Orleans. But this building was short, two floors, but long, more apartments stretching backwards to surround a courtyard. 

Nothing like Jersey. Nothing like home.

“Welp,” Henry Fisher breathed out, staring at the building. “It’s certainly nothing like Jersey, but it isn’t all that bad, is it?” He asked, turning to glance down at his son, taking in the disgust that absolutely radiated off him. He couldn’t see what his expression was, but just looking at him was enough… “Our things were already delivered and set up, so we don’t have to worry about unpacking in this heat! That’s a good thing, right?” Smiling, he reached out and ruffled his son’s messy, wavy hair- hair that had been straight before their plane landed, he noted with amusement. 

“Stop,” Sal muttered, weakly batting at the offensive hand. “Why’s it so hot?” He complained, feeling sweat trickle down his face behind his mask. At least he wore a t-shirt and not a long-sleeved shirt, like he’d originally planned. 

A bark of laughter escaped Henry as he started forward confidently. “Because you’re in the Deep South now, son!” He called over his shoulder.

Deep South. His lip curled as he followed his father, unease spreading through him the closer they got to the apartment… Block? He still wasn’t sure what to call this place. He glanced up as they neared the front doors, taking note of the sign that said, in big, bold, black letters “NOT HAUNTED”. 

Right. Totally normal apartments. Right. 

“Ah, Mr. Fisher?” A crackly, raspy voice asked, causing the pair to jump and spin around, seeking out the source of the voice. Sal nudged his father and gestured towards a long, horizontal slot in a door to their right- larger than a mail slot. “Yes, yes, you are Henry Fisher, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.” Henry answered uneasily, stepping forward. “You…?”

“Terrance Addison, the owner of Addison Apartments!” The voice replied, sounding less harsh and suddenly far more chipper. 

While it may have eased Henry’s nerves, it simply made the hair on Sal’s arms stand on end. To switch from harsh and cold to kind and welcoming in mere seconds… 

“Pleasure to meet you, Terrance.” Henry replied, while Sal murmured in agreement. 

“I won’t keep you two; your apartment is number 402; second floor, on the back section.” He explained, his face disappearing and a pale, skinny hand reappearing to slide out a set of keys. “Welcome to Addison Apartments, and to New Orleans.” As soon as Henry took hold of the key rings, the oddly long mail slot slammed shut, leaving the pair to stand in the entry awkwardly.

“… Okay.” Sal drawled, shaking his head before taking a set of keys from Henry’s fingers. “I’m going to the apartment.” 

“Right behind you!” Henry called, jogging to catch up with his son’s quick footsteps. No doors opened, but occasionally, the sound of a television or voices could be heard. 

Sal took in the environment, the state of the courtyard- a small garden that was slowly being overtaken with weeds, a cracked, concreate walkway. The railings were painted white, with some parts chipping off, revealing rust beneath. His gaze tracked upwards, towards the ceiling of the walkway, taking in the occasional water spot. Outdoor walkways- it would be a pain to carry groceries to the apartment, but at least there weren’t too many stairs. Maybe they could get some sort of trolley…

“Here we are!” Henry cheered softly as they arrived at their apartment door: 402. He unlocked the door and stepped in, pausing in the doorway. “… It’s hot.” He stated simply, wincing. Sal slipped past, making a surprised noise due to the fact that yeah, it was hot, but it was also stuffy. Henry left the door open, where at least a breeze, albeit hot, blew. A window unit sat directly across in the living room, fat and with dust making itself at home on top of it. Wasting no time, Henry crossed to it, plugging it in and cranking it on.

And on it came, with a sputtering groan that sounded more akin to a dying animal than a machine. 

“Well…” Henry began, turning to face Sal, “what should we-”

“I’m going to my room.” He stated simply, toeing off his converse and slipping away, down the small hall to his bedroom- across from the bathroom, with his father’s bedroom at the end, he noted with relief. His door was open, and the room was just as warm, but he had his own small window unit, already plugged in- just not on. Toeing the door shut, he crossed to the window unit, cranking it on and sighing in relief as cool air began to blow. 

Turning slowly, he took in the way the movers had set up his bedroom; bed against the far wall with the head facing the window, a nightstand beside it on the wall that the door was on, closet on the opposite wall, TV stand (minus a TV), with four boxes of books sitting atop it, and his dresser. The walls were ivory, the ceiling was simple. His posters were in one of the many boxes, as were his clothes, and his CDs, and albums…

Softly, he began to hum an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him, or maybe it was an actual song? He wasn't sure, but he remembered her singing it in a soft, sweet voice. Black painted nails began to tear open the nearest box, revealing medical supplies. He stared the items down; the gauze, the isopropyl alcohol, the teeth guards, cotton balls. It made his skin itch, made him acutely aware of the way his mask stuck to his face. Shaking hands reached up, unclipping the back two straps, allowing it to fall free. The cooling air of the bedroom felt wonderful on his heated skin, and he closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling. Blue bangs stuck to his forehead thanks to the sweat. 

Eyes opening, he was met with his reflection, causing him to startle in surprise. “Shit, man,” he whispered, shaking his head. How had he missed that his closet door was a mirror? He shook his head, grimacing at the grotesque face that stared back at him. Two long scars traced down the right side of his face, one stretching from his temple and ending on the left side of his chin, the other an inch above, falling at the corner of gnarled lips, giving him the appearance of halfway smiling, revealing white, false teeth. The left side of his face fared no better, with indents of teeth having scarred on his cheek. Smaller scars littered his face, across a nose that had been all but scratched off. 

A monster. That’s what he was. Monstrous. 

Turning away from his reflection, he climbed onto the bed- made, thankfully. Unpacking could wait; he had all weekend before starting Nockfell High on Monday. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon his bones as he settled in, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Quickly, sleep overtook him. 

Nightmares were common, more so than normal dreams.

It was the same, as always. Hospital room, his face bandaged heavily, the maze of halls, going in one door and ending up in a new hallway. Then suddenly, he was outside, and there was a funeral happening. And a dog- always a dog, brown, decaying, and when he would ask what was happening, it would reply in some cryptic way. And then he would wake up in a sweat, heart pounding out of his chest. 

Just like now. 

The bedroom was dark, the sun having long since set. Blinking groggily, he swung jean-clad legs over the edge of the bed and sat in the darkness for a moment, breathing in for a standard four count before breathing out, lengthening each breath until he no longer felt ready to jump out of his skin. Dragging a hand through his hair (and wincing at how wavy it had become in the Louisiana summer heat), he slid off of the bed and stumbled his way through his room, cursing softly beneath his breath when he kicked a rather heavy box on accident. 

Door opened, he peeked his head out, listening- Henry was passed out in the living room from the sound of his snores, no doubt having gone to the store for both food and his choice of poison. Nose scrunching up behind his mask, he made his way into the living room, each footfall soft despite the wooden floors. And just like he thought, there he was- sound asleep, beer bottles stacked on the table. His snores let him know that he was still alive, not having drank himself to death- yet. 

Sighing softly, Sal shook his head and turned off the television, bathing the room in darkness. Quietly, he slipped out of the front door, closing it with careful gentleness afterwards. Glancing around the walkway, he noted all the other doors were closed. He wasted no time in jogging to the stairs and on down, crossing the courtyard, and through the outdoor lobby where soda and candy machines stood. Even at night, the air was humid, but the breeze was cooler this close to the ocean. He could hear cars, voices, the music of the night, mingling in the wind. 

He knew it was stupid, for him to walk alone in a city he was unfamiliar with, but he needed to get out, to find something that was at least relatively familiar, that reminded him of Jersey somehow, someway. There had to be something in this city that shared similarities with his home, right? Right. Hands stuffed deep in his pockets, he wandered the mostly empty streets, keeping his head low when people passed- though, he found out that many didn’t even look twice. Right.

Land of Mardi Gras and drunks and voodoo: The Crescent City.

The sound of loud laughter and heavy guitar drew his attention, and against his better judgement, he wound his way through the alleys, cats and rats alike scattering at the sight of him, hissing at his form. That was fine. He didn’t feel like catching the plague today, anyway. Glancing around, he found himself in very, very unfamiliar territory, the houses no more than rubble from hurricanes past. But the voices grew louder, the music could be felt in his chest. Familiar territory. Swallowing the sudden nerves that grew, he moved towards the light, towards the music and voices. From where he stood, he could see flashing lights, could see bodies moving, dancing. 

The ground beneath his feet was cracked pavement, as if the city had simply forgotten this part, or perhaps it was left out on purpose. Spanish moss hung heavy from large oak trees, beautiful and ethereal in the moonlight. It felt like a movie set, fake, unreal. He shook his head, ready to turn around, to go back to the apartments-

Only to find an arm suddenly slung over his shoulder, causing every single muscle in his body to tense at the sudden touch.

“You’s new here, ain’t you?” The owner of the arm spoke, accent warm, thick, low, lilting with a deeply southern drawl. “Ain’t seen anyone with blue hair ‘round these parts.”

“Who dat?” Came another voice, this one feminine, with an even more prominent lilt. Cajun? Was this what a Cajun voice sounded like? “Lar, who’s it?”

“Dunno,” Lar, apparently, spoke, pulling back enough for Sal to take a few quick steps back. “Whasyer name, stranger?” The man asked, a smirk curling his lips. No, not a man- he couldn’t have been more than two years older than he was. Long, chocolate brown locks fell clear to his waist, some strands pushed back behind his ears, making his face evident. His eyes were gorgeous, Sal noted in surprise: a mixture of not quite gold, not quite brown, hooded- bedroom eyes, with a mole beneath the right eye. Those were bedroom eyes, and this fucker was tall, dark, and handsome. He wore a tan shirt with SF on it- a band?- and a pair of black pants that looked nearly painted on, barely clinging to his hips, chains hanging from the pockets. 

Oh, no.

The girl had appeared from behind him, with long, brown-red hair that fell to her hips, fluffy, messy bangs, and vivid emerald eyes rimmed with black eyeliner. She was pretty, too, wearing a purple tank top and black pants. Her nose was pierced through the septum.

Sal swallowed harshly, his heart beating wildly within his chest. “Sal.” He answered simply, forcing himself to at least appear calm, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his hip out. “You?”

“Oh, you’s from de north!” The girl cooed, leaning forward with a bright smile. “Which part?”

“Jersey.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“I’m Larry Johnson, and this is Ashley Campbell.” Larry introduced, a smirk curling his lips, hiding that small gap between his front two upper teeth. Handsome, charming, southern. This… Was dangerous. Sal’s gaze fell upon Larry’s mouth as he spoke, catching the glint of metal in the moonlight. Tongue piercing. 

“… Right. Didn’t mean to burst in on your… Party.” Sal spoke, slowly backing away.

“Nah, cher, you didn’t burst nothin’- at least, not yet.” Larry teased, prompting for a flush of color to rise to Sal’s cheeks, which were thankfully covered by the mask. “Whas the mask for?”

“Prosthetic.” He answered quickly, brows furrowing. “I… Need to go.”

“Where you stayin’?” Ashley asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I c’n take ya!”

“She’s got a bike.” Larry added, following him step for step, slowly, like a cat hunting down a mouse. And Sal was the mouse. 

“No- no, thank you. I’ll… Sorry.” Going against every instinct that screamed for him to not turn his back on the pair, he turned his back.

And ran. Fast. All the way back to Addison Apartments, leaving the sound of laughter, of golden brown and emerald, of strange southern charm, behind. He felt as if they were still there, right on his heels, the sound of their voices following him as he darted through the courtyard and to the stairs, as he all but yanked the front door open and had to force himself to not slam the door closed. 

Something felt… Off about them. That entire area. His anxiety was so high, it made his hands shake. Toeing off his shoes, he made his way to the bathroom, where his father had placed his medication. Anti-anxiety and anti-depression. He hadn’t taken either today. Quickly dumping two pills into his hand, he swallowed them dry before chasing it down with a gulp of water from the faucet.

Somehow, he must’ve taken his mask off- a glance around and he saw the prosthetic laying on the bathroom tiles. Staring at his reflection, he forced himself to breathe. It was just anxiety from being in a new place, right? Right. That was all. Nothing more. 

Shaking his head, he dragged his hands through his hair, gathered his mask, and made his way to his bedroom. He was still exhausted, jetlag getting the best of him, and then running for his life… Damn. Stripping down to his boxers, he set his mask aside, carefully removed his right eye and plopped it into a glass of water and saline solution before collapsing onto his bed.

He’d unpack tomorrow, and spend Sunday exploring the city with dad. Yeah. In the daylight. 

Sleep consumed him, bringing with it odd dreams of elongated teeth, golden brown eyes, and a laugh like thunder.


	2. Bad/Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal meets another tenant of Addison Apartments, contemplates whether New Orleans is good or bad, has a Terrifying Experience, gets lost, and then found again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a better idea of where I want the plot to go, now! I'm feeling fairly confident with this; I think this will be either 15 or 20 chapters, unless I get more ideas (which is likely lbr). No real warnings for this chapter aside from brief flashbacks to The Accident.  
> Also, if you can't tell, I messed with the timeline a little. Sal's accident occurred when he was 6 rather than 3.  
> Come follow me on tumblr for Sally Face ramblings & updates for this fic! https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> **EDIT: Added a date stamp.

_“I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real”_

* * *

August 29th, 1991

* * *

Morning came with bright skies and blistering heat once more. Sal groaned in relief as he followed after Henry into the Barnes and Nobles in Metairie- which was also a part of New Orleans, apparently. He was still trying to wrap his head around the parts- Parishes, as Henry reminded him time after time within the last week. How one city could have so many sections made his brain spin. And not in the good way, not in the high way. In the bad, too much cannot handle, kind of way. But there was a Barnes and Nobles here, and there was one in a mall off of I-10. 

Breathing in deeply, he felt himself relax almost immediately. He didn’t have any money to get anything, but just being around books, around so many different worlds and so much knowledge- it made up for it. Henry had an order come in, shipped to this specific store, for his new job. Some sort of… Tech thing. It went over Sal’s head, really, but his dad was excited for the new job. Even if it meant having relocated across the entire fucking country. 

Yeah, he still wasn’t over that.

“Rad mask,” came a voice from behind, and Sal turned quickly, looking up at first before realizing he needed to look down. A blonde in a wheelchair grinned at him, college textbooks balanced on his lap. “Never seen one like that ‘round here- gonna sound creepy, but I saw y’all earlier. Y’all live in Addison Apartments, too, yeah?”

“I- yeah, I do.” Surprise danced within his voice as he shifted, unsure of what to say. “My name’s Sal.”

“Please t’meet ya, Sal!” He grinned and put a hand out, which Sal took after a moment’s hesitation to shake. “My name’s CJ. I live on the ground level, second building, room 301!” He explained before starting to carefully wheel past Sal, who quickly stepped out of his way. “I got two roomies- Azaria and Sierra. You should come chill sometime, dude! Addison Apartments may not be the best of the best ‘round here, but it’s home, and it’s cheap- important for a college kid!” A laugh bubbled free, and Sal decided in that moment that he liked CJ.

“I’ll definitely do that.” The teen agreed, nodding as CJ beamed. 

“Radical.” Steering his wheelchair into line, he reached back and held his fist out. It took Sal a minute before he realized he was waiting for a fist bump. Quickly bumping fists, he departed, leaving the blond to pay for his textbooks.

Henry had wandered off, having already received his order. It didn’t take long for Sal to find him by the doors- something they’d always done. If one wandered off, they would come to the front. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” nodding, Sal slipped out of the store ahead of his father into the late August heat. 

“Apparently,” Henry began as he fumbled with his keys to their old, beat up Cadillac, “this summer’s been strange here. No tropical storms or hurricanes have hit land yet.” 

Sal hummed, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Henry unlocked the car doors. “Weird. Right.” Weird, as in having just moved here, and running into two strange people the night before while possibly finding an “underground’ goth club. As in, getting the weirdest vibes from Addison Apartments. As in, New Orleans giving off the weirdest vibe in general. 

“Are you okay?” Henry suddenly asked, causing Sal to pause. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re acting off, that’s all. You… You have been taking your medication, right?”

Sal groaned, all but collapsing into the car. He knew his father meant well, really, he did. But getting hounded about his medication was tiring. “Yes, dad, I have.”

“Okay, okay.” Henry knew when to stop, thankfully. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he wasted no time in rolling down the window halfway. “Wanna stop for some-”

“McDonald’s.” Sal finished, a smile evident in his voice. Henry grinned and turned up the radio before pulling out of the parking space. 

Perhaps New Orleans wouldn’t be that bad.

* * *

Correction, New Orleans could be that bad.

The moment they’d stepped foot into the McDonald’s, Sal knew something was going to happen. And happen, it did, because the next moment he felt someone shove past him with a mutter of “fucking freak”. Henry had turned, ready to reprimand, to check on Sal, but the next moment, Sal’s mask was being wretched from his face, the snaps breaking. The pure panic that surged through him made him freeze, his hands covering his face as Henry yelled and the men yelled back. 

Sal had dropped to the floor, grabbed his mask, and _ran_.

It was pure instinct, to run. And they were close enough to Addison Apartments, he could make it back on foot. At least, that’s what he had thought. But one wrong turn, and he ended up stumbling into a cemetery. Brows furrowed, mask being held up to his face by his hands, he felt tears well up in his eye. 

Lost. He was lost in a city he’d only been in for barely more than a day. Adrenaline began to wane, his hands began to shake, and felt himself falling. Collapsing down to his knees. Couldn’t stop the soft sob that left him as he leaned back against a stone vault. He’d read, before they ever came down here, about the cemeteries; how the graves were above ground in vaults because of how the city was below sea level. He knew he should feel bad for leaning against someone’s grave, for crying like a child, but he didn’t care in the moment. 

He was scared, and alone, and in that moment, felt like he was back in the woods outside of Jersey City. A picnic that his mother had planned for his good grades. Six years old, and having the time of his life, chasing butterflies and watching the way the trees swayed in the breeze. She’d packed them a full course meal, even desert! 

And then, the dog appeared. 

Henry had gone back to the car, having forgotten their drinks. He’d been gone for a while, but then again, they were fairly far away from the parking lot. Sal didn’t really mind.

Because there was a puppy! “Mamma, mamma!” He had cried out, practically jumping on the spot. “Can I go pet the puppy? Can I?” He’d asked, excited; dogs were his favorite animal! 

Diane had laughed and called back, “Wait until your father gets here! Do you hear me, Sal? Wait until your father arrives!” She called back, even as Sal ran towards the dog. “Sal! He’ll be here any minute! You wait right there!” Apprehension filled her voice.

He should have listened to her. He should have stayed.

The dog didn’t growl. It didn’t whine. It just stood there. And when Sal had crouched down, it had lunged. Teeth flashing, drool flinging, it had pinned him down, taking a bite from his cheek, ripping his nose off, scratching across his face. He could hear screaming- his own, his mother’s, he hadn’t been able to tell. 

But he’d seen the man. He’d seen the knife. He’d seen his mother run to him, and then she was down, and the dog was on her.

Pain, pain, so much pain-

He jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Eyes widening in surprise and fear, he quickly moved back, hand moving, clutching his mask, and felt it connect with a sickening crunch, and a yell of surprised pain. He surged to his feet, ready to bolt.

“What the fuck, dude?” A vaguely familiar voice cursed, Southern accent sharp. Sal finally looked, staring at long brown hair and tanned skin, of a hand clutched a, no doubt, broken nose. 

“Oh, _shit_!” He exclaimed, reaching out. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” 

“You’ve got a wicked arm, dude,” Larry groaned, doubled over.

“Here, lemme see-” Sal reached out, pulling Larry’s hands from his face. No bleeding, but the it would bruise; it looked like part of it was broken, but not the entire bridge. Good. He sighed in relief, shoulders sagging, a small smile curling his lips. 

That was when Larry’s eyes widened, and a pulse of anxiety surged through Sal. “Dude, your face…” Larry whispered, brows furrowing as he took in the severe scarring, the false eye, the gnarled lips. 

Sal felt his chin wobble, felt tears spill over. Larry panicked, reaching out as Sal crumpled again, sobs tearing free. He pulled the blue haired teen into his arms, holding him tight, settling them down onto their knees. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sal whimpered, rubbing at his face. Wordlessly, Larry reached over, picking up the discarded mask and pulling it up. He studied the torn clips, brows furrowing, and made quick work with removing the clips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sal continued to mutter into his chest.

Larry didn’t respond, instead shifting to set Sal back up. He could feel Sal’s eyes on him as he pulled off his shirt and ripped it apart without much hassle. It was already threadbare, an old Korn shirt that had seen far better days. He moved forward onto his knees and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his pocket knife. 

Sal stiffened, which made Larry let out a snort.

He cut two strips from the shirt before handing the remaining fabric to the other, motioning for him to wipe his face off with. He didn’t watch to see if he did, instead moving to remove the leather straps from the sides of the mask. “Yer gonna have t’get some new straps, but…” With a few quick movements, he’d replaced the straps with the fabric strips he’d cut free. “C’mere, lemme see if this’ll fit ya!” Grinning, he looked up, catching Sal’s eyes.

Eye, Larry noted as he took in the way the right eye didn’t move with the left, the unnatural glassiness it held. What the hell happened to the kid? 

Sal scooted forward, and Larry watched the tips of his ears grow red. Cute. Carefully, he pressed the mask to Sal’s face and let him adjust it, pulling his bangs free, sliding it down across his chin. He gave a small noise of approval, and the brunette hummed as he reached around, pulling the fabric taught, and slid it through the two small slots on the other side of the mask. Tying it with a few small movements, he sat back and nodded. “Tada!”

Scarred fingers moved up, dancing over the fabric, and he pointedly ignored the way his heart skipped a beat. “You didn’t have to…” He muttered, ducking his head down. He pushed himself up to his feet, Larry following suit a moment longer. Curiosity piqued, he looked around- the sun having begun to set, painting the sky various shades of orange and purple and pink, the edges turning blue. How long had he been out? “Why’re you here?”

“Here, as in on this earth, or here as in in this cemetery?” Larry replied back with a smirk.

“Jackass,” Sal snorted, shaking his head. “As in this cemetery.”

“Paying my respects to the dead,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You should always take time to visit the tombs of the deceased.”

“You have…?”

“Nah, not my family. Just… Old family friends. And the tombs that look like they haven’t been visited in a while.” Larry replied, throwing his arms wide and turning in a slow circle. “Respecter les morts, Sal!”

“Right…” Shaking his head, Sal dusted off his pants. “I-… This is gonna sound lame, but I’m kind of-”

“Lost?” Larry interrupted, making Sal still.

“How’d you know?”

Humming, the brunette shrugged and ran a hand through long chocolate locks. “Lucky guess.” Picking up his discarded leather jacket- had it fallen off?- and sliding it back on despite now not having a shirt, he moved past Sal. “C’mon, cher, I’ll take ya home.”

“You know where Addison Apartments is?” Sal asked, stumbling over his feet and muttering a quick ‘sorry for crying on your grave’ to the tomb, he quickly caught up with the taller. 

“Know where it is?” Larry snorted, shaking his head. “Sal, ami, babe, I live at Addison Apartments!”

“You do?!”

“Mhm! My ma’s worked as th’ janitor and handy man fo’ years.” As he explained, he led Sal through the cemetery, completely to the other side. The tombs were gorgeous, Sal noted, tall and marble, with gargoyles or angels or fleur de lis. He needed to get his camera unpacked and bring it back to get some pictures. “We live in th’ first buildin’, on the outside wall.”

“I didn’t know there were rooms on the outside.”

“Just ours.”

A few more minutes passed as they swept through the gates to a large, empty parking lot. Well, not empty, because a Harley Davidson motorcycle sat near the gates. Sal balked, footsteps faltering. “That’s _yours_?”

Larry turned and grinned, pride absolutely radiating off of him. “Yeah, she’s mine. Got her for cheap from a junkyard and fixed her up myself. She had some water damage from a hurricane, but with some nice TLC, she’s back to purrin’!” 

“What model?” He asked, stepping closer to take it in.

“1976 Fatboy.” Larry replied, walking around it and taking hold of the helmet. “Catch.” He tossed the black helmet to Sal, who had to thank his quick reflexes as he caught it and didn’t drop it. 

“What about you?” Sal asked, brow raising behind his mask as he studied the helmet. 

“Dun need one.” Larry grinned, full of mischief. Sal swallowed hard, before raising the helmet and sliding it on over his head. It took a bit of adjusting to get it to fit with the mask, but he managed. Larry hummed and slid onto the bike, settling down low. “C’mon, get on.”

It took Sal another minute due to his short legs, but he settled in behind him, and hesitated. 

“’Round my waist, cher.” Larry chuckled as Sal obeyed, thin arms circling his waist, petit body pressing against his back. “Hang on tight, now.”

The engine suddenly came to life, roaring before settling into a bone rattling purr beneath them. Sal couldn’t help the surprised noise that left him as he marveled in the feeling; so much power between his legs, so much speed. It was… Thrilling. Exhilarating. He grinned, but a yelp escaped him as Larry suddenly took off. He ducked his head down, eyes squeezing shut as they sped through the streets of New Orleans, going from Mid-City to Gentilly. It took a fair amount of time, zipping through side streets and across highways, between cars and slowing down for pedestrians.

By the time they arrived at Addison Apartments, Sal’s legs felt numb and his hands were shaking, but not from anxiety, but rather from adrenaline. Larry pulled around to the backside and killed the motor. Helmet pulled from his head, he ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the tangles and knots. Larry’s hair wasn’t any better, he noted. He handed the helmet over and stretched his arms over his head.

“Thanks for… Everything.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, over the makeshift straps. “For bringing me home and the mask…”

Larry shrugged and grinned, making his way to the door- indeed, on the backside of the building. “Not a problem, Sally~.” Larry replied, practically cooing his name. Sal turned, ready to go home and face the firestorm that would be his father, only pause at the soft voice that breezed past him, enveloping him. “You should come over to Rockfell’s sometime; I know you were interested last night.”

Sal turned quickly, looking around for Larry, but the door to the apartment was closing, and he was gone. 

Frowning, Sal made his way towards the front, pausing at the sound of a mail slot opening. “Terrance?”

“Sal, do you want a cup of tea?” Terrance Addison asked from his mail slot. Sal wandered closer, brows furrowing.

“Tea?”

“Yes! Addison’s special tea!”

“Maybe later, thank you.”

“Of course, of course! Have a good night, Sal!” The mail slot closed, and Sal shook his head, making his way through the entrance and into the courtyard. He could see the light still on in his apartment. 

And the moment he opened the door, he was greeted with Henry’s hysterical voice. “Where on _earth_ WERE YOU? I was so worried, Sal! I was going to go to the police and file a report for missing child but you have to wait twenty four hours apparently,” he continued on his tangent on filing missing persons reports as Sal removed his shoes and pulled his mask free, shaking his head.

“I need new straps.” He interrupted, making Henry falter.

“And then-… New straps?” Henry shook his head and crossed over to his son, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Don’t scare me like that again, Sal Fisher. Do you hear me? I can’t… I can’t lose you, too.”

Sal wrapped his arms around his father, hugging him back just as tightly. “I won’t, dad. And I wasn’t alone- Larry, uh. He’s another… kid, that lives here. He found me. And brought me back. He fixed my straps- temporarily, at least.” He raised the mask up so that Henry could see, and watched as an amused smile crossed his fathers lips at the torn strips of fabric.

“Well, I’ll have to meet this young man. Tomorrow. You need to eat.” And with that, the crisis was over, and Henry began to stuff Sal with New Orleans native food: gumbo, a thing called a crawfish (oddly good), and so, so, so much shrimp.


	3. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal makes new friends and gets invited out.  
> Larry has thoughts.  
> Ashley is a terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so I'm having WAY more fun with this than I thought I would. Thank you all for your kind words and kudos!! It really means a lot to me that y'all are liking this. As of now, I think this might become 20+ chapters, I'm not 100% sure. I do know that the next chapter will be long due to what I need to write.  
> And the chapter after that, things get dark.  
> This chapter, however, is relatively calm.  
> Gets a touch of spice at the end.  
> As always, thank you for reading, and you can come scream at me on tumblr @ https://fakexface.tumblr.com/  
> (Kudos & comments makes the heart grow fonder!)  
> **EDIT: Added a date stamp.

September 1st, 1991

* * *

“He’s cute,” Ashley said from her position on Larry’s bedroom floor, staring up at his ceiling as Judas Priest played loudly. “Blue hair, edgy, mysterious- nervous, cute, small.” She cooed, turning onto her stomach. Long brown hair splayed about her form, a shade redder than Larry’s own. 

Larry hummed as he studied the canvas before him. “I know. You know what else I know?” He asked as he turned to rummage through his paints, trying to find the perfect shade of blue. Sal’s hair was such an intense shade, tones of deep blue hidden between strands of sky blue and turquoise. Like the ocean- not the Gulf, no, the Gulf was more greens and grays and sand.

“What?” Ashley asked, brows raising as she sat up, idly toying with the ends of her hair.

“He would taste _delicious_.”

* * *

School wasn’t as disastrous as it could have been, really; Henry drove him before going on to work, and he found his classes with relative ease. All the classrooms were air conditioned, thankfully, and he only had gym twice a week. Band was the other three days, something he looked forward to. At his old school, he hadn’t been able to do much with band, but here, they allowed him to play electric bass guitar. Jazz band was what it was. 

Jazz was pretty big down here, apparently. There was a festival just for it and everything in April.

His classes weren’t that bad; quick introductions at the front of the class, the same question each time (“Why do you wear a mask?” “It’s a prosthetic.” “Oh.”), and he’d sit in the back of the class, and things would carry on as if it were normal. No one really talked to him, no one bothered him; senior year would be easy. Most of the topics that they were beginning, he’d already covered back in New Jersey. 

Relief came in the form of red hair and freckles. 

His name was Todd Morrison; they had English, French I, and Calculus together. He was a bit… Nerdy. A little off. But he was kind, and willing to talk, and didn’t ask many questions about his prosthetic other than why he’d chosen that one. He also lived at Addison Apartments, almost directly across from Sal, which was nice! He was openly gay, something that quite a few people looked down on, but he didn’t care- he’d been with his boyfriend, Neil, for nearly three years. 

That also made Sal happy. To know that he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t quite straight.

Of course, he knew that there were going to be others in the community here, with as big of a school as it was. But he’d still held that little bit of fear. 

There was also Chug, a boy with green hair (dyed, he made sure to make that clear), a thick Cajun accent that made it almost difficult for Sal to understand, and a loud laugh. He was nice, and listened to good bands, and knew which places were best to get good food for cheap. His family stayed at Addison Apartments, just a few doors down from Sal’s. How he’d missed him, he didn’t know. But then again, it wasn’t as if he’d gone door to door to meet everyone.

… Maybe he should do that.

“So, do either of you know someone by the name of Larry?” Sal asked as the trio made their way home, having stopped to get slushies from Sonic. Sal’s was blue raspberry, and wonderfully sour. 

“Larry Johnson?” Todd asked, a brow raised as he studied Sal. “Yeah, he graduated three or four years ago, right?”

“Yeah, he was in de same class as Maple. Why?” The green haired teen asked, studying Sal too closely for his comfort.

“Just… Wondering. Bumped into him a couple of times.” Sal replied, shrugging. It wasn’t as if it was a lie, really- he had bumped into him a few times. 

“He’s pretty chill; total stoner, but fun to hang ‘round. Maple likes ‘im.” Chug replied, nodding. “Speakin’ of, you ain’t doing anything dis weekend, are ya?” He asked, turning to walk backwards ahead of Sal and Todd.

“Not that I know of…?” Sal replied, brows furrowing behind his mask. “Why?”

“Come wit us! Dere’s gonna be a party out in de swamps.” Chug exclaimed, grinning brightly.

“In… The swamps?”

Todd snorted, shaking his head. “It isn’t what is sounds like. He’s new here, Chug. Like I was.” He paused, turning towards Sal. “The swamps aren’t _actual_ swamps. They’re more along the lines of an old stomping ground; an old bayou that flooded like, a hundred or so years ago. It’s near Manchac Swamp- you’ve heard of that, right?”

Sal shook his head, and watched as Todd and Chug exchanged a secret grin. “Well,” Chug began, walking backwards once more, “first t’ing’s first: do you believe in ghosts?”

“Well, yeah. I believe in most paranormal things. After all, I grew up hearing stories about the Jersey Devil.”

“Good. So’s, de legend goes dat dere was once a village. Dis woman, Julia Brown- de lesser known Voodoo Queen down here, lived dere. She was a prophetess, an oracle; she done predicted tragedies that would happen in de ot’er towns! And deys would come true!” Chug threw his arms up into the air, very nearly spilling his quickly melting slush. “In 1915, her neighbors heard her a-singin’,” he cleared his throat, and Todd suddenly joined in, the pair singing in wavering, crackly falsettos.

_“One day I’m gonna die, and I’m gonna take all of you with me!”_

Sal couldn’t help but laugh, despite the cloud of unease that settled over him. 

“She died within a few days of singing that song,” Todd continued for Chug, who was busy drinking down his more-liquid-than-ice slush. “The locals in the surrounding villages wanted to honor her, so they had this grand funeral for her to send her off. Over two hundred people had gathered,” Todd paused, looking up to the sky, studying the clouds. Fat bottomed, filled with rain. “But none of them ever got to leave.”

A rumble of thunder in the distance, threatening the oncoming afternoon storm, filled the space between the trio at oddly good timing. Sal shuddered, but was stuck onto every word.

“A strong, disastrous hurricane struck in the middle of that funeral and killed most of the folk that attended. They were buried in a mass grave in the swamp, and even now, it’s not uncommon for a body to float up to the surface and float through the swamp.” Todd shuddered at the imagery of a swamp body. 

Sal resisted the urge to gag.

“Dey even say dat you c’n still hear Julia singin’ her final song! Or you’s’ll hear a woman screamin’!” Chug added in, sounding far too excited.

Sal rubbed at his arms, brows furrowed as he let the legend sink in. “So, we’re going to Manchac?”

“Naw, we’s goin’ to a different one. Sorta near Manchac- I think it connects, but I ain’t too sure.” Chug fell into silence as he thought before shrugging. “Eit’er way, you comin’?”

“I don’t drink.” Sal said, his tone leaving no room to argue. “But I’ll come along. What time are we leaving? And… When?”

“Friday night,” Todd explained, grinning. “Neil’s driving us. It takes a good thirty minutes or so by car to get there, and even then, you have to deal with Friday night traffic. We’ll head out around seven.”

“Rad.” Sal nodded as they stepped onto Addison Apartments’ premises. “I’m gonna go work on this geography assignment. Gotta get used to Louisiana one way or another, right?”

Chug and Todd nodded in sympathy. “God speed, young padawan.” Chug said, causing Todd to groan.

“No, no, no.”

“What?! I t’ought it was right!”

“It isn’t. Not by a long shot.”

Sal left the pair to argue behind, smiling behind his mask as he jogged up the stairs, only to pause halfway at the sight of a brunette woman in a janitor’s uniform. He wracked his brain for her name, but couldn’t remember it. But her features were familiar, screaming Larry. His mother! 

Backtracking, he made his way over to her. “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re Larry’s mother, right?” He asked, watching as she perked up. She had a nice smile, despite how tired she looked.

“Yeah, I am. How can I help ya, hon?” She asked, leaning against her broom. “Lar didn’t do nothin’, did he?” A southern accent, nothing near as thick as Chug’s or Larry’s; sweeter, softer. 

“No, no!” He shook his head quickly, flushing beneath the mask. “No, I just- he helped me out yesterday. And I just…” Awkward, he was so bad at this. “I just wanted to introduce myself. Me and my dad just moved into 402.”

“Oh!” She gave a soft laugh, nodding. “I was wonderin’ who it was that moved in there! It’s nice t’have some new faces ‘round these parts!” She grinned. “Larry’s a good kid. I’m glad he was able t’help you!”

“Yeah- well. I need to… Go…” He gestured to his backpack. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Nice meetin’ you too, sweet heart!” She called after him as he jogged back up the stairs.

Fishing the key from his pocket, he unlocked the door quickly and slipped into it, groaning in relief at the cool interior. Converse toed off, he dropped his bag and made his way to the kitchen, pausing at the note left on the fridge. 

_‘Sorry, son, but it’ll be a late night. There’s frozen pizza in the freezer, and leftover Chinese in the fridge. Don’t wait up for me. Love, dad’._

_‘Just like old times, right?’_ Sal thought to himself as he left the kitchen. Scarred fingers drifted upwards, unclipping the lower strap of his mask so that he could push it up, allowing him to drink the sour slush. He all but collapsed onto the couch and yawned.

A short nap wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

“Lar-bear!” Lisa called as she entered their apartment, cooler clutched in her hand. A new shipment had been dropped off, Terrance had told her. Just for them, too. She sighed when she received no response. No doubt that he was still sound asleep. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she pulled the refrigerator open, sliding the red cooler inside of it. Nothing else sat within the interior, aside from a few bottles of water and a dish of meat- that would need to be cooked soon. 

She sighed, lips pursing. They needed food; a diet of blood alone couldn’t sustain them. At least, blood that wasn’t directly from the source. 

A soft click had her turning, a bright smile spilling across her features at the sight of her son, his hair pulled up into a messy bun, clothing rumpled. “You done for the day?” He asked around a yawn, still attempting to wake up. They didn’t necessarily have to sleep all day… But her son preferred it. He’d always been more sensitive to the light than she had. Which was why their little windowless apartment had been perfect- why Addison Apartments had been perfect. 

Terrance was a light in their never-ending darkness. 

“Unless someone needs me, I’m done. We had a shipment dropped off for us.” Lisa replied, pulling her hair free of the ponytail it had been in. She watched as her son grinned and lazily made his way to the kitchen, scratching at his stomach. “I’m gonna go shower, hon. Help yourself- there should be leftover gumbo in there, too. The good spicy kind!” She called over her shoulder.

Larry hummed in response as he opened the fridge and pulled out the cooler, sliding the lid off and pulling a bag free. His mother always complained whenever he tore the bag open and got blood all over the floors. Resisting the primal urge to do JUST that, he moved to the sink and set it inside before rummaging for a cup. 

Ashley would be by later, and then they’d leave to go cruise the streets. She was still relatively new the life, having been changed only four years prior. Lisa had been the one to find her, had brought her in, and together, they waited. Locked her in the storage shed and took turns watching her until she’d surpassed the initial stages. 

Larry had gone to find the one who changed her, but never could. The trail was cold. He’d spent countless nights combing across the fifteen wards of New Orleans, checking with the different covens, going as far as taking the hour and a half drive down across Lake Pontchartrain to Biloxi. Nothing. The girl’s family was up north, near Seattle; she had come down on Spring Break. 

Never to leave. Came up with a bullshit excuse on how she’d fallen in love with the culture, had made friends, and was going to go to LSU. 

They took her in for that first year, teaching her how her new “body” worked- how she could handle “human” food in small amounts, how the sunlight wouldn’t burn them to ash, but they would get a wicked sunburn if they weren’t careful, how their bodies were technically stronger but that she couldn’t go jumping off the top of a building and land unharmed. How she did need to drink blood, and while it was best to get from the source, that wouldn’t always be easy to do. New Orleans already had a reputation within the paranormal community for the vampires; that one author creating an entire series that’s about vampires in New Orleans…

And she wasn’t entirely wrong in her information.

Louisiana in and of itself was surrounded by lore and whisperings; voodoo and hoodoo, occult and a melting pot of religions. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone to find plenty of those who fall beneath the “supernatural” label living within the state. Even in Mississippi, and by a stretch, up north to Arkansas. It was the woods, his mother had explained once; the large amount of protected forests, swamps, and the way that folk mind their business when it’s needed.

A soft cheer escaped him as he finally found a straw. Cup settled on the counter, he raised the bag to his mouth and let his lips pull back, incisors coming into view as he punctured the bag easily. He wanted to gag at first; the plastic always tasted bad, of antiseptic and hospital. But the blood started to flow out and into the cup, and only a few drops spilled out!

Drink fixed, he plopped the straw in and sucked deep, eyes closing in a moment of bliss. His body felt alive with each pull. And technically, it was still alive. He didn’t know the full science of it, but somehow, the blood that they drank contained antibodies and that kept them living, kept that trace amount of blood in their veins still flowing. Their hearts still beat, but it was low enough that it would never register on any machine. A beat per minute, maybe less- he didn’t know. Never bothered to test it out. 

He made to walk back to his room but paused at the sound of voices outside the apartment. He leaned against the wall and listened; it was that one ginger kid and the Cajun, talking about some game. A snicker left him as he listened to their argument, shaking his head. Maple was dating the Cajun kid- Chug?- and liked him a lot. Enough that she’d talked about changing him.

That was something that needed to be discussed more in depth, later.

Maple was sweet; she was older than he was, having been changed in the early 1800s in a ritual gone wrong. She’s the first one that Lisa went to when it happened to them. 

Maple was sweet, but deadly. 

They didn’t have a coven- not officially. None of them wanted to join with one of the bigger ones, and they didn’t have the authority on the Council to make their own. So, they hung around these parts, out towards the marshes and bayous. Away from humans, aside from those who chose to come. The loners, the weirdos, the outcasts. None of them knew what they were, at least, Larry assumed they didn’t.

He wasn’t too sure.

Pushing away from the wall, he licked his lips and crashed onto the couch, careful not to spill his meal. His incisors would stay elongated until he finished eating, extended on the top and bottom. That’s something that the legends always got wrong- it was just the top teeth. The bottom sharpened and elongated too. It makes for gripping, for piercing and ripping, easier. 

Faster. Messier.

He groaned softly and set his drink aside, running a hand over his stomach. Lean, pale, a decent happy trail. He could feel the muscles beneath without flexing- too much, at least. Eyes closing, he settled down, ready to just fall asleep, until the door opened.

Jerking up, he stared hard at the door, a growl of a warning raising in his throat before he relaxed. Ash. 

“You’s lookin’ like you done seen’t a ghost!” Ashley exclaimed, cackling as she closed the door, pulling her hood down and removing her sunglasses. She had dressed up in a deep purple sundress that dipped low between her cleavage, the ends of it tattered artfully, falling in strips, paired with a pair of fishnets and pair of tattered hiking boots. Necklace upon necklace hung around her neck, the longest falling to her naval, the shortest clinging around her throat with a cross hanging from it. Fake silver, none of it being made of real metal. The were just pretty things, some with wooden beads, others with jewels. A black trench coat with a hood finished off her look.

Her style was his favorite. 

“Maybe I done did,” he replied, smirking. “You’s hungry?”

“Naw, I got a bite wit’ Map.” She didn’t bother taking her boots off as she crossed to the couch and leaned on the arm, tumbling backwards, her head landing beside his thigh. “You seen dat kid anymo’?”

“Naw, ain’t been out.”

“Which kid?” Lisa’s voice chimed out, melodic, as she left the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in comfy clothes. “I met a kid earlier that said you helped him out, Larbear.”

“Sally?” He asked, smirked growing.

“He said his name was Sal, but sure. Blue hair? Mask? He’s a sweetie. Introduced himself to me and everythin’.” Lisa hummed, making her way to the kitchen to dig around for a pack for herself. “He lives on the second floor, room 402.”

“You ain’t tell me you done helped him!” Ashley exclaimed, reaching back to slap his calf. 

“It wasn’t nothing big- he was lost. I gave ‘im a ride home.”

“A ride or a _ride_?” Ashley asked softly, brow raising mischievously.

“On th' _bike_. Home.” Larry replied, leaning over the other. “You’re horrible.”

“He’s cute, and I bet he’d sound cuter.”

Shaking his head, Larry pushed off from the couch and stretched, only to let out a surprised yelp as Ashley drug her nails across the small of his back lightly- enough to sting, but not enough to truly hurt. 

“You two goin’ out tonight?” Lisa asked, sipping on ruby within a wine glass. 

Larry snickered at the sight of his momma in kitty cat pajamas and sipping on blood from a wine glass. “Bougie,” he teased, watching as she grinned before sticking her tongue out at him. “Yeah. I’m gonna go git dressed.”

“Dress nice! I wanna go check out de French Quarter tonight. Ash’s gotta good feelin’.” Ashley called after him as he slipped into his bedroom. 

He leaned against the door, eyes closing. Damn Ashley and her mischief; the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. But now, his mind was swimming with the idea of that blue head thrown back, of distorted lips parted and sweet moans slipping free, or scarred cheeks coloring in a vivid red. His ears pinked, so maybe he was a full body blusher? Groaning softly, the brunette scrubbed a hand over his face before ripping his hair free. 

He’d go out, have a good night, and maybe forget about the way Sal’s blue eyes had followed his every damn movement like a cat tracking a mouse.


	4. Watched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addison Apartments isn't what it appears.  
> A dinner is eaten.  
> A murder.  
> Plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing horrible happens here, until the very end. It isn't descriptive, but there is gore. So, a warning for that. Otherwise, this chapter is pure plot building. The next chapter will be where the fun (and trouble) begins.  
> As always, thank you for your kind words and for reading this. It truly means a lot to me.  
> You can follow me on tumblr at:  
> Main blog: https://cha0ticmimzy.tumblr.com/  
> Sally Face blog: https://fakexface.tumblr.com/

_“To see if I still feel…”_

* * *

September 1st, 1991

* * *

New Orleans was weird. Sal liked weird. But New Orleans was on another level of weird. It wasn’t that everyone called him ‘hon’ or ‘sweetie’- it was the general feel of the city. Old, with energies he didn’t want to look into.

But those energies found him, regardless.

It came in the form of a tickle on the back of his neck that made his hair stand on edge, letting him know that he wasn’t alone in his apartment despite the fact that he knew that his father was out getting dinner in the form of takeout and the door was locked. He’d been studying for his first French exam in the morning with the television playing softly in the background, the news anchor talking about cooler weather starting to settle in by tomorrow night. One moment, he was focused on sounding out eu and wondering why x needed to be at the end of a word, and the next, he was sitting still as a statue, breathing so softly that it didn’t make a sound.

Because he wasn’t alone. Someone was watching him. He didn’t know who, or what. But someone was there. He could almost hear their breathing. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he clutched his pencil, wondering if this was it, if this was the end of Sal Fisher. He swallowed roughly, and spun around, staring at the open space behind him. 

No one was there.

Someone had been there. He was certain of it.

He didn’t bother staying, grabbing hold of his mask (with new straps!), yanked it on hard enough to scrape at the edges of his face, scribbled a lame excuse of wanting to get some air and that he’d be back before sundown, and all but ran from the apartment. He’d barely gotten his shoes on, and was down the stairs and around the side of the building before he realized it.

He knocked and waited anxiously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. This was stupid. It was nothing, right?

The door opened, and Larry’s face popped into view. His hair was tied back into a messy bun, a paint brush slotted through it, and he had paint on his face- a stark streak of black across his left cheekbone. “Sal?” Larry asked, confusion dancing through his eyes at the state of the boy. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I-I,” Sal stuttered before shaking his head. “There’s someone in my apartment. Or, was. I think?” He ran a hand over his face- or, his mask. Frazzled was an understatement. “I dunno. I just- I didn’t-”

“Wanna be alone.” Larry finished, giving Sal a small smile. “Hang on, lemme grab some shoes and I’ll come up an’ check it out fer ya, how’s that sound?”

“That’s- you don’t have to-… okay.” Sal sighed, leaning against the wall beside the door. Trees bordered the outside of Addison Apartments, and beyond the first line was a chain link fence. Beyond that lay a swamp. And Sal did not want to know what lurked in there. Just standing here made his hair stand on end. So many feelings, so much energy. Were they on a lay line? That would make sense. Or maybe it was just nothing but the paranoia of being alone in a new place.

Even though he knew damn well that that had absolutely nothing to do with this feeling. 

He could hear Larry moving about within, the sound of water running- no doubt to wash the paint off his face. His mind drifted, running circles around the strange feeling. He’d felt it before, back in Jersey, after he’d dicked around with a few of his “friends” and a Ouija board. But that was nothing compared to now. No, what he’d felt in that apartment was real. It was real, and it wasn’t nice, and it made him want to cry.

To curl up into a ball, and sob.

“Aight, Sally, lessgo.” Larry’s voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to jump a little. “Sorry, sorry- didn’t mean t’scare ya.”

Sal shook his head and went to lead the way, only to pause at the sight of the baseball bat slung over Larry’s shoulder. “… Bat?”

“In case anyone’s in there that shouldn’t be. Knife?” Larry countered, gaze glued to the pocket knife Sal had pulled out.

“… Protection?” He tried weakly, shrugging. Sal led the way through the entryway and up the stairs, and realized with a sickening drop of his stomach that he hadn’t even locked the door. Swallowing harshly, he put his hand on the doorknob, only for it to be covered by a hand much larger than his own. Larry had come up behind him, and with a gentle nudge of his shoulder, had slipped in front of him.

He didn’t waste any time, either, because he was throwing the door open with the bat at the ready. Slowly, the pair made their way into the apartment, bat and knife raised. Living room and kitchen cleared, they crept into the hallway, pausing to listen. Nothing sounded, but Sal’s hair still stood on end. Larry quietly opened up Sal’s bedroom door, peeking his head in before entering and doing a quick turn about. Nothing.

Maybe it had been his imagination?

They had been on their way to the bathroom when the sound of clattering came from the front. Freezing in place, the pair looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

_‘On three?’_

_‘On three. One, two-’_

On three, they charged.

“Sal, I brought- HAIL MARY JOSEPH AND JESUS _WHAT ARE YOU DOING_?” Henry all but screamed, pressed against the door, clutching the Chinese takeout to his chest as if it were the only thing keeping him safe. 

Sal skidded to a stop, running into Larry’s back, who still had the bat raised. Peeking out from behind Larry, the boy made a sheepish sound. “I uh… Got… Scared? And got Larry from downstairs? And uh…”

“And you planned on _bludgeoning_ a man to death? Or- Sal Fisher _put that knife down_ or SO HELP ME.” Henry scowled, peeling himself from the door to close it with his foot. Sal quickly closed the knife and slid it into the pocket of his jeans while Larry lowered his bat, his head dropping slightly. 

“Sorry, dad,” Sal mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he crossed over to his father, taking the Chinese from him. “Also- this is Larry. He’s the one who helped me.” He introduced as an afterthought, watching as Larry gave a small wave with the hand that wasn’t holding the bat. 

“Nice t’meet ya, Mister Fisher,” Larry flashed a smile that had Henry’s tense shoulders relaxing, the corners of his lips easing from their frown.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Larry. And thank you for helping my son. It certainly is nice to know that he’s making friends around here,” Henry reached past Sal to open a cabinet, pulling out plates. “Stay for dinner?”

“Nah, I wouldn’ wanna intrude or nothin’. Plus, my ma’s gonna be done with her work soon an’ all, so I needa get back and fix her up somethin’ to eat as well.” A smooth lie that Henry bought easily, though Sal stared at him from behind his mask. It made his skin heat up in a way that Larry hadn’t expected. Shifting his stance, he leaned forward and bumped Sal’s shoulder gently with the tip of the bat. “Ya know where t’find me if ya git scared outta yer wits again, Sally.”

“Shut up,” Sal muttered, but Larry could hear the smile in his words. “Thank you for helping me, even if it was stupid of us.” A chuckle escaped the trio of men before Larry slung his bat back over his shoulder. 

“See ya ‘round. Have a nice night, Mister Fisher,” Larry called over his shoulder as he left, closing the door behind him. Sal followed after, locking both the deadbolt and the normal lock. 

“… You got scared?” Henry asked while they ate honey sesame chicken, egg drop soup, rice noodles, and black pepper beef. 

Sal swallowed his bite and sighed, nodding. His mask sat on the table, discarded for the time being. It was easier to eat without it on, especially takeout. Even if it made him uncomfortable- his father had seen his face right after the accident. His father had been there throughout the healing process, had seen the worse of it. The skin grafts that had been done, the stitches that held his cheek together, the blood that oozed out. “Yeah… I dunno. It felt… Like I was being watched? Which sounds stupid and insane because there’s no windows into the living room, but I… Maybe it’s because it’s a new apartment?” 

“Do you think it was because of your medication?” Henry asked after a moment, watching as his son shook his head quickly.

“I’ve been on this new one for seven months now, dad. It isn’t the medication. I think it’s because,” he hesitated, staring at the rice noodles on his plate. “Because it’s getting close to the anniversary.” Anniversary of the attack, of his mother’s death, of his entire world flipping upside down.

Henry hummed and nodded in agreement, brows furrowing. “That could be it,” he agreed, falling into silence as he finished off his egg drop soup. 

Sal idly scratched at the hollowed-out sections of his nose, grimacing at the feeling of thin flesh barely covering bone. At least he didn’t have to worry about allergies. “How’s work?” He asked after another silent minute passed, watching as his father’s face brightened. It warmed his heart, to see him happy.

God knows they deserved to be happy.

“Good! It’s a nice environment- the office space is better than what it was in Jersey, and I’ve got a view of the Gulf from my office. I should bring you around sometime- they’ve got a Taco Bell right beside it.” Henry continued to ramble on- about his coworkers, about his boss, about the work he’s doing. He was a programmer, and apparently that was in high need. 

Sal couldn’t understand it, but it made his dad happy. So that’s what mattered.

“That sounds rad,” Sal replied when Henry finished. “I’m glad you’re liking it.” 

“How’s school?” Henry inquired after a moment as he twirled rice noodles and black pepper beef together.

Sal paused, thinking. It was good. Better than good, really. “Great. I’ve made a couple of friends- Chug and Todd. They both live here, too.”

“Oh? What’re they like?”

“Chug has a really thick Cajun accent and loves sweet foods. Todd moved here from Seattle three years ago with his parents. He’s really techy- I think you’d like him.” Realization dawned upon him, causing him to sit up straighter. “Speaking of- they invited me to a party on the outskirts of the city Friday. Is it okay if I go?” He asked timidly, gaze settled onto his plate as he fiddled with the remains of an egg roll.

Henry studied his son for a minute, taking in the nervous posture, the fiddling. He actually wanted to go out? With people? And do things? This was a break through! He wanted to get up and dance, to sing, to cry! He grinned and shrugged. “Go for it. It’ll be good for you to get out and get used to the city. Just…” Worry gnawed at his voice. “Be careful, okay? I know you don’t drink, but still. I want you to be careful. And take your pocket knife with you. The moment you don’t feel safe-”

“Leave and hail a taxi. I know, dad.” Sal replied, rolling his eye. But he was smiling, his left leg jumping beneath the table as excitement began to set in. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think I might like it here.”

* * *

September 2nd, 1991

* * *

The next day was Thursday, which meant gym. It wasn’t that Sal didn’t like gym- it wasn’t that bad, really. But the sweltering heat of New Orleans made it a living hell. Thankfully, however, the gym was air conditioned.

The bad part?

He had to walk across campus to get to the gym, which left him with a light sheen of sweat coating his skin. Todd didn’t complain, but his cheeks were flushed from the heat and the pair of boys groaned the moment they stepped foot into the cool air of the gymnasium. 

“We gotta talk after warmup about what you need to expect tomorrow, by the way,” Todd suddenly spoke as the pair changed in the boy’s locker room, Sal in a stall with Todd standing guard right outside of it. 

“That sounds ominous and mildly threatening.” Sal dryly replied, tugging on an old, oversized Metallica shirt on. “Should I be worried?”

A snort of laughter escaped Todd as he tied his shoes. “Nah, don’t be nervous. I just don’t want you to be surprised or anything, that’s all.” Todd may have been from Seattle, but his words had taken on a southern twang to them in the four years that he’d been living here. It made for an interesting accent.

Sal sort of liked it. He also wondered if that would happen to him- if his Jersey accent would morph into a strange mixture of country and Jersey.

Stall door unlocked, he emerged while tying his blue locks up into a high ponytail. “Can’t beat anything that I’ve experienced back home.” Home. This still wasn’t home to him.

“True, true.” Todd didn’t argue.

Together, they made their way back into the gym, finding Chug in his designated spot- right next to theirs, at the very back. The gym leaders, a pair of boys that were an odd mixture of country and city, with deep tans and loud voices, were already standing at the front. But something was off.

No one else was in their spots. No one else was getting ready.

Sal felt the hair on his arms raise, as if lightning was about to strike within their vicinity. 

“What’s going on?” He asked as they approached Chug, watching as the green haired teen looked up from tying his shoes.

“Ya didn’t hear?” He asked, brows raising in surprise. “It’s all over de school now.”

“We both had a free period ‘cause Ms. Smith was out.” Todd explained, plopping down onto the brown gymnasium floor. “What’s happening?”

“Dey found a body,” Chug spoke softly, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “Mrs. Sanderson- you knows, the physics teacher’s wife? Dey found her body in de middle o’ his class. De police came in wit Principal Kline an’ everyt’ing.”

“Do you know what happened?” Sal asked, easing himself down onto the ground beside Todd as Chug settled down before laying back.

“Someone broke inner their apartment and brutalized her.” Dark brown eyes slid shut as he shook his head. “Apparently, her throat got ripped out. Like, an animal done did it,” Sal shuddered but remained silent as Chug continued to speak, “de police t’ink it’s some hoodoo shit.”

That explained the odd air that had been in the school that day. Sal rubbed at his arms and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin upon them. “So, free day?”

“Yeh. Free day.”

Sal yawned behind his mask and let his eye slide closed, listening to the soft murmur of students fill the gym. A murder. Well, that wasn’t too surprising; homicide rates had gone up and were just now starting to come back down. But in such a brutal way? It was uncomfortable to think on.

“Well,” Todd drawled, leaning back against the wall, “let’s chat.”

Sal opened his eye and hummed, letting his legs slowly stretch out. “Hit me.”

“Kinky,” Chug snickered from his horizontal position on the floor. Rather than snark back, Sal instead bent forward- and kept going, until the forehead of the prosthetic was touching the gym floor. 

He snickered when he heard the soft wheeze from both of his friends.

“How?” Chug asked when he raised back up, staring at him in a mixture of confusion and awe. 

Shrugging, Sal curled his legs inward, as if her were going to sit criss-crossed, but instead put the soles of his shoes against one another. “I’m extra bendy? I dunno. I’ve always been flexible.”

“God damn.” Todd replied, shaking his head. “I wish _I_ were that flexible.”

Sal hummed and stretched his arms up over his head. “Back on topic. What do I need to be warned of?”

Todd and Chug exchanged a look, one that was filled with mischief and anxiety, mixing like a potent drink that Sal was about to drink down like a man dying of thirst.  
“Obviously, no adults- at least, none that care.” Todd began as he fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “Neil’s bringing some drinks- he’s a bartender, part time.”

“How old _is_ your boyfriend?” Sal interjected, a brow raising.

“He just turned twenty-one. I’m eighteen, you know.” Todd replied, lip jutting out in a pout.

“… I don’t know why I was expecting him to be older.” Sal shook his head before motioning for Todd to continue.

“Dere’s gonna be a bonfire,” Chug added, grinning. “De bonfire is always de best. An’ we ain’ gotta worry ‘bout de woods catchin’ since everyt’ings all soggy out dere.”

“How would you have a bonfire if the woods’ wet?”

The pair snorted, and Todd answered Sal’s confusion with an obvious answer. “Bring the wood ourselves.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm. There’s gonna be people we went to school with there- like Chug’s girlfriend, Maple. She’s gonna bring her friends, and Neil has a few friends he’s invited. And pretty much anyone who gets word will come.”

“So…” Sal trailed off, brows furrowing. “It’s… Gonna be big?”

“Nah,” Chug pushed himself up, shaking his head. “Ain’ gonna be dat big. Jus’ ‘bout… Twenty? O’ t’irty people!”

“So, enough that a small club would be sort of crowded?”

“… I mean, yeah?” Todd shrugged and reached up to push his glassed up the bridge of his nose. “But it isn’t gonna be crowded, Sal. You’re used to a crowded city. We’re takin’ you out of the city and into the boondocks.” A wicked grin curled Todd’s lips as Chug all but cackled. “And it gets cool out on the water at night, so dress warm. But not, like, winter warm. Like, wear a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans. And boots if you have any? I have some waterproofing spray for them.”

Nodding, Sal slowly got to his feet. “Alright. So, around seven?”

“I’ll come over to your place and make sure you’re dressed nice and appropriate beforehand, and we’ll grab Chug, and meet Neil.” Standing, Todd glanced at his watch. “We need to go change. Bell’s gonna sound in five.”

“Ew.” Chug and Sal replied simultaneously, Chug’s face a mirror of disgust that Sal’s own had, hidden behind the prosthetic.

“So, tomorrow.” Sal rubbed at his arm, an old nervous habit.

“Tomorrow.” Chug and Todd agreed, twin grins plastered on their faces.

Sal suddenly felt as if he were stepping into a lion’s den.

* * *

_Drip._

“He can sense us.” The voice spoke softly within the dark, echoing around the chamber.

_Drip._

“Can he?” Another asked, lighter in tone.

_Drip._

“He knew I was there,” the voice purred, accompanied by the sickening sound of bone breaking. No scream came. No, the screaming had stopped an hour ago, as well as the breathing, and the beating of a heart. The woman was dead, but her skin still held warmth. Rigor mortis was just starting to set in. 

_Drip._

“He is her child.”

_Drip._

“He is.”

_Drip._

Another harsh _snap_ of bone, followed by a slow slurp. The sound of sirens began to wail in the distance, growing closer by the second. The voice chuckled, and a slow, sickening, ripping sound filled the room, as if someone had taken a piece of uncooked chicken and began to flay it with their bare hands.

“Let the fun begin.”


	5. The Beginning of Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal likes the stars outside of New Orleans.  
> Sal also was not prepared for this party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the beginning of trouble begins! The next chapter will kick things into high gear, and probably cause me to change the rating of this fic.  
> And maybe add in a new ship tag.  
> But this one is relatively tame, so have the calm before the storm.  
> As always, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has been commenting, reading, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me that you all are enjoying this.  
> You can follow me:  
> On my main tumblr: https://cha0ticmimzy.tumblr.com/  
> On my Sally Face tumblr: https://fakexface.tumblr.com/

_“And I was thinking to myself, 'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'.”_  
- _Hotel California_ , The Eagles

* * *

September 3rd, 1991 7:25 p.m.

* * *

School went by in a blur. His first week, accomplished. He’d passed his French exam, had managed to not make a fool of himself, and most importantly: survived. That was the important part. New schools were always a pain, no matter what age you transfer. But he’d survived. 

And tonight, he’d be going to a party. A party. Something he never did back home. Sure, he went to clubs, but that was different. This was a party- a high school party way out in the boondocks (he’d asked what that meant when Todd said it- apparently, it meant way out in the country). It made him giddy, made his hands shake and his stomach erupt into butterflies. It wasn’t a big party, by any means- but there would be people there he didn’t know. It was exciting.

It was nerve wracking.

He stood before his closet, shirtless and in a pair of ripped red skinny jeans and black socks. He’d gone yesterday to get a pair of boots- black, leather, and by far the newest thing he owned. His father had needed a pair of rain boots, anyway; the weather in the south was weird. Rain showers could pop up out of literally thin air. Sal liked that. He liked it when it was overcast, when the skies darkened with thick thunderheads, when lightning flashed across the sky and thunder made the apartment shake. Those were his favorite times.

And so far, New Orleans had not disappointed. However, the whiplash he got from the weather was not appreciated. 

Todd would be here any minute, and he still hadn’t dried his hair or gotten a shirt picked out. Well, his hair was drying itself, leaving it in soft waves that would have made a model jealous a professional hair stylist wanting to know his secret. But he still needed a _shirt_ , damn it.

“Sal, someone’s at the door for you!” Henry’s voice drifted through the apartment, breaking the silence that had built up in his bedroom, causing Sal to jump. Cursing softly, he grabbed a shirt whose sleeves were ripped off and tugged it on before making his way through the apartment. Henry stood in the kitchen, fixing himself dinner.

Sal had already eaten with Todd and Chug on the way home, gorging themselves on gas station pizza.

He opened the door, smiling behind the mask at Todd. He’d gotten his hair cut, the underside buzzed while the top remained a curly, red mess. It was cute, admittedly. It made him look older, more mature. Not like the stereotypical geek. “Nice,” was all Sal said as he stepped aside to let him in.

“Thanks- hey, Mr. Fisher.” Todd called as they walked towards Sal’s bedroom. They’d met the day before, with Henry instantly taking a liking to Todd. Which was good, considering how Todd was technically his way out to the party.

Sal opened his bedroom door, closed it, and turned to Todd. “Help.” He whined, shoulders slumping. “I can’t figure out a shirt. You know the weather here. Look through there and see if you can find something that’s fitting. _Please_.” 

Todd let out a snort of laughter as he slid past Sal and began flipping through his closet. “You actually have _color_ in your closet? I’m shocked. I’m alarmed. Who is this person? Is this who Sal truly is?”

“Fuck off into the Gulf.”

“My reach isn’t that long.”

The pair of teens let out snickers before Todd returned to looking through the clothes. He pulled a few different shirts out, looking them over before returning them. That is, until he settled on a red and black plaid flannel button down. “This. Wear this over,” a glance back towards Sal with a critical eye, “over what you’re wearing now.”

“This?” Sal raised a brow and turned, looking at his reflection. The muscle shirt was older, a faded-out Iron Maiden shirt that was loose and soft. “I mean, if you think that’ll look good?”

“Mhm,” Todd nodded and walked over with the shirt, holding it out. “Listen. I was in the closet for a long time. I got a decent fashion sense.”

A bark of surprised laughter escaped Sal as he took the shirt and slid it on. It was big- bigger than his clothes normally were, the sleeves falling well past his hands. It made him look smaller than normal, almost girlish. But he liked it. There was a punk edge to it. Eyes lighting up, he backpedaled to his desk and took hold of an old choker he’d gotten more or less as a joke. But now…

Now, it was perfect.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it worked; a strip of black velvet cinched around his throat. It was what the look needed. He didn’t bother to change out his earrings; they were good as is. Turning, he gestured to his throat wordlessly and received two thumbs up from Todd. 

“Perfect.”

“Sweet.”

Grinning beneath the mask, he pulled his boots free from beneath his bed and held them out. “I even got my own water proofing spray… Thing. Dad bought it because we used the same brand back home.” He worked on sliding the new boots on and adjusting the laces while Todd moved about his bedroom, looking at the mountain of CDs, the mini library that Sal had going on. 

He paused before a photograph of who had to be Sal, small and smiling, no mask in sight, with bright blue eyes and a grin full of missing teeth. A blonde woman was crouched behind him, holding him with a matching grin. She had freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks. Would Sal have freckles? Maybe he did. Todd thought that would be cute. But then again, he didn’t know what was beneath Sal’s mask. 

They weren’t to that level of friendship just yet.

He didn’t say anything about the photograph; that had to have been Sal’s mother. She was pretty. 

Sal looked like he would have been a pretty boy when he’d grown up, too. Clear skin, bright smile.

“There. Is this good?” Sal asked, breaking through Todd’s thoughts. Todd turned and looked him over; he looked _good_. Better than good, he was almost ashamed to admit. His hair was perfect; he’d mused it up, parted it to the left while leaving his bangs alone, giving his hair a bit more volume. The waves looked almost professionally done. And the outfit- the choker, the plaid overshirt and the Iron Maiden muscle tank, the ripped jeans, the boots.

“Dude, you look hot.” Todd shook his head, grinning.

Sal let out a surprised noise and seemed to shrink in on himself for a moment. “You mean it?”

Brows raising, Todd nodded and held out an arm. “So, shall we go pick up our Frog Prince and wait for our carriage to arrive?” He asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Sal couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him- full of life, of happiness, of joy.

Sal slid his arm through Todd’s and shook his head. “You’re cheesy.”

“Good thing Neil likes cheese.”

Arm in arm, they left his bedroom, laughing to themselves. Henry paused in making macaroni and watched, a fond smile curling his lips. It’d been so long since he’d seen Sal be so… Open. Laughing. Relaxed. It was nice. “Have fun, be safe. You know what to do, Sal.” Henry called, and Sal pulled free of Todd’s arm for a moment to walk over and give Henry a quick side hug.

“I’ll be fine, dad. If it’s too late, I’ll sleep over at Todd’s.” 

“If it’s past midnight, please do.”

The sun was just starting to set, painting the New Orleans sky in vivid hues of orange and pink and purple, the air finally cooling down to below eighty degrees. It was a blessing, the cool north breeze drifting through their hair as the trio sat on the curb in front of Addison Apartments and waited for Neil.

“Do you know who Maple invited?” Todd asked, glancing over to Chug, who gave a simple shrug as answer.

Sal shifted, pulling his knees to his chest, and stared up at the sky. Clouds slowly drifted across, none of them threatening rain. Which was good. He’d hate for their party to be ruined. The colors were shifting slowly, painting the air shades of gold. Golden hour, that’s what his dad said his mother always called this time. When everything seemed to have been touched by Midas himself, and anything seemed possible. The best hour of the day.

He couldn’t help but agree.

Idly, Sal leaned over, resting his shoulder against Todd’s, who’s words stuttered as he looked over at the other before continuing his rant about… A game? Some game. The cool breeze felt good, comforting; it made him think of fall, of the trees turning color, of warm sweaters and overcast skies. Of pumpkin scents and the excitement of Halloween coming.

The sound of a car slowing to a stop had his eyes opening.

The car wasn’t a car at all, but rather, a truck. An old red Ford that had obviously been babied through the years. It was shiny in the evening sun. Sal removed himself from Todd’s shoulder to let Todd jump up and lean through the passenger side window.

“Hey, handsome,” the driver- Neil, Sal assumed- spoke, causing Todd to splutter and laugh. 

“I was wondering if you got lost or somethin’.” Todd whined lightly before tugging the door open. “Chug, you and Sal get the bed.”

“Hell yeah!” Chug cheered, giving a wave to Neil. 

“Oh, right- Neil, meet Sal. Sal, Neil.”

Neil looked nice; a bright smile, kind eyes, dark hair that fell in long dread locks, tied back. Sal liked him almost instantly. He had such a warm feeling about him, like he could trust him. He gave a small wave, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Sal. Hop on in- I’ll drive nice, don’t you worry.” Neil replied with a playful wink.

Todd clambered into the passenger seat, planting a kiss upon his boyfriend’s lips before beginning the same rant he’d been giving Chug moments before. Sal couldn’t help but laugh as he climbed into the bed of the truck, stepping on the wheel before pulling himself up and over the side. The bed of the truck was clean, aside from a few stray pine needles- something Sal had realized was normal for the South. 

The back window slid open, and Todd’s head appeared between Sal and Chug. “Neil’s gonna stop at his work on the way out to grab his check, and then go get the drinks.” He explained to the pair before sitting back down, though he left the window open.

“Hang on!” Neil hollered as he took the truck out of park and into drive, the truck lurching slightly as he took off. Sal was glad he carried hair ties around his wrist at all times as he quickly tied his hair up and into a bun at the top of his head, trying to avoid getting it tangled by the wind. Like what had happened with Larry on the back of his bike. 

Larry.

He hadn’t seen him since Wednesday night, when he’d gotten scared in his apartment. He’d been so ready to come help, grabbing a baseball bat of all things. It made Sal wonder if he played baseball, or used to, at least. When he’d held onto him on the motorcycle, he made sure to keep his hands on the leather of his jacket, and not on the bare skin of his stomach. But he’d seen the lithe musculature, the shift of muscles beneath sinewy skin, when he’d moved. He was undoubtedly strong, really. 

He was ashamed to admit that he’d thought about the feeling of that body beneath his arms more than once. 

Leaning his head back, he watched as the trees gave way to the lights of the city. Bourbon Street, that’s where they were. He still wanted to go explore the area, but he hadn’t had a chance. Maybe this weekend? Maybe Chug and Todd would join him. And maybe even Neil, if he wasn’t busy. 

The truck slowed to a stop in front of a bar, whose doors were wide open. Chug leaned forward the same time as Sal, the pair looking around curiously. Neil worked at a nicer bar, it seemed; it even had its own house band. They were singing a cover of a Fleetwood Mac song- The Chain, Sal recognized with a smile. “I can still hear you sayin’, you must never break the chain!” He sang along softly, proud of himself for remembering the lyrics. His mother had loved Fleetwood Mac. 

He liked Fleetwood Mac. 

“Didn’ know ya could sing!” Chug exclaimed, eyes wide.

Todd poked his head through the window curiously. “Sal can sing?”

Sal shrugged lightly. “I can carry a tune?”

“Better ‘an dat!” Chug shook his head, smiling. “C’mon, Sal! Sing some mo’!”

Sal rubbed the back of his neck before nodding and listening, clearing his throat. He hadn’t sang out loud in front of other people in a long time, and his voice wavered slightly, but he managed to keep a steady tune. “Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night. Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies!” He put harsh accents on the _‘damn’_ 's, getting into the music. “Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light!”

The chorus started up, and Neil returned with a smile, signing along with the band and Sal. His voice was rich, lovely, dark and smooth and Sal envied him for it. It was the complete opposite of his natural rasp. “And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying: ‘you would never break the chain!’”

Todd and Chug both cheered while Sal ducked his head, the tips of his ears flushing. A few people on the sidewalk had even applauded the impromptu show as the band kicked up, the guitar and bass growing louder by the second. “Not bad, not bad!” Neil complimented as he walked around the bed of the truck to the driver’s side. “You should come sing some night. The house band is only here on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sal replied as he settled back against the side of the truck, taking in the architecture of Bourbon Street. It was nice; he spotted a few strands of beads still hanging from balconies or from rooftops. Mardi Gras. He’d be able to experience that come February. He’d always heard wild stories about it, but now, he would be able to live it. The famous king cakes, the massive floats, the beads, the celebrations. Oh.

Oh, man. He was _excited_.

The truck lurched, and he held onto the side of the truck as Neil pulled out quickly. Don’t Fear The Reaper began playing through the truck’s radio, and Neil cranked it up, singing along at the top of his lungs. Sal couldn’t help but grin behind his mask as he joined in, Chug playing the air drums as they drove through New Orleans. Neil merged onto I-10 and began the drive to Metairie. The sun had fully set behind the horizon, though you could hardly tell with the city lights. 

Sal leaned back and closed his eyes, simply enjoying the wind and the sounds of the city rushing by. They couldn’t have gotten away with this back in Jersey. Police would have already pulled them over and ticketed them all. But New Orleans held a different sort of freedom, one he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. 

He’d felt lighter ever since he’d come here, as if a piece of him was finally at peace. As if this place was what he’d been missing.

The sounds of the city began to fade, replaced by the unmistakable screaming of cicadas. Brows furrowing, he opened his eyes and stared up the night sky: cloudless, showing so many stars. Cornflower blue hues widened as he took it all in, breathing deeply. So many _stars_. He hadn’t seen that many in all of his life, and here they were. It was _insane_. He looked over to Chug, who was staring up at the sky with a small smile on his lips. 

The radio suddenly turned down as Neil’s voice broke through. “We gots ‘bout twenty more minutes- but we’re boutta go onto some dirt roads.” He warned, and true to his words, the truck began to slow. Sal sat up, looking around curiously. He’d been too caught up in the cosmos to notice that they had gone off of the highway and were on a thin country road. 

“Where are we?” Sal asked, leaning forward to peek into the cabin of the truck.

“Near Laplace!” Todd replied, turning around in his seat. “Neil grew up around here, so he knows his way around.”

“Bumpy!” Neil warned, and a moment later, smooth asphalt turned to gravel. Sal nearly hit his head on the window before he moved back. 

Chug had risen to a standing position, grinning as they drove down the dirt road. He held onto Sal’s arm as Sal joined him, bracing himself on the roof of the truck. It was different, seeing everything from this point of view. The headlights of the truck were stark, bright, against the darkness of the woods. Or, well, swamps, Sal realized as he glanced to the side and saw the faint reflection of the truck’s headlights in water. He looked up, taking in the Spanish moss that hung from the trees over their heads. All around them, nature performed a sonnet. Toads croaked, water splashed, crickets chirped, and cicadas screamed. But that wasn’t what amazed him the most. No, not at all.

What amazed him was the hundreds of fireflies that surrounded them. There were so many; they looked like Christmas lights in the dark. It was beautiful, in a dark sort of way.

The tree line broke, the gravel road spreading out. He could hear the faint sound of music as they approached and could already spot the glow of a fire. People were already here. Chug whooped and jumped out of the truck before it came to a complete stop, causing Todd to let out a surprised yell. Neil stuck his arm out of the window to give the green haired teen a vulgar gesture that included a hand and one finger.

Sal couldn’t restrain his laughter even if he wanted to. 

Todd slipped out with a six pack in his arms, Neil following after with two more in his hands, and a bottle of… Vodka? Tequila? Sal couldn’t tell from his point of view, but it was under Neil’s arm.

Neil was also tall. And surprisingly muscular. Todd was a lucky, lucky man.

Shaking his head, Sal clambered out of the truck and landed with a soft _squish_. Oh. Ew. _Ew_. That’s why Todd said wear boots. Staring at the soggy, oddly soft ground for a few seconds, Sal contemplated jumping in place, just to see if it’d happen again. He decided against that. The music wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t soft, either. He listened for a moment, trying to figure out what song it was, before it hit him. The opening to Hotel California. 

Humming softly along to the guitar, he followed a good few feet behind Todd and Neil. He didn’t recognize anyone that was here, but they knew Chug and Neil and Todd. And they all seemed relatively relaxed. So, that was good.

Chug waved him over excitedly, a bright grin on his face. A girl leaned against him, just a touch shorter than he was. Sal almost tripped as he took in her appearance; she was gorgeous. Her skin was a milky tone with freckles spilling across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, onto her shoulders, which were bare. He couldn’t discern her eye color in the flickering light of the bonfire; dark, almost black, maybe a dark brown. She had silver hair, too- buzzed on the left side, long everywhere else, with an eyebrow piercing; her septum and lower lip were also pierced, the latter having a silver, close fitting hoop through the center that contrasted drastically with her black lipstick. She wore a knee length black dress, the edges of which were trimmed with lace, a pair of black military boots polished off her look.

Southern Gothic. 

“Sal, meet my girlfriend, Maple. Maple, meet Sal!” Chug introduced, grinning. 

Maple gave him a small, kind smile, and stuck out her hand for Sal to shake. “Sure is a pleasure to finally meet the guy my boyfriend can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout,” she teased, her voice a sweet southern drawl that made Sal’s knees almost buckle. 

“It’s nice to met you, too,” he managed to reply, grasping her hand and giving it a shake. Her hand was cold, not frigid, but cold- probably from her lack of a jacket- but her grip was _strong_.

Sal liked her.

“There’s some soda in the red cooler, and some water, too. The blue cooler is filled with ice and only ice, and the white cooler is alcohol.” She explained, leading them over to the coolers slowly. “Travis is setting up the grill, and the Devil Duo should be here with food any minute now.”

“Devil Duo?” Sal asked, brows furrowing.

The sound of a loud engine came in the form of an answer. Sal turned, watching as a black Chevrolet truck drove into the clearing. He watched curiously as the passenger door opened before feeling his heart stutter.

_Larry_. Larry was here.

Larry was here and he was wearing a Mötley Crüe shirt whose sleeves had been ripped off, a pair of black jeans that looked like they should have been painted on, and that damned leather jacket. And his hair- by God, his hair looked amazing. Half of it was pulled up and into an artful bun, with the rest flowing free. A few strands had escaped the bun, falling around his face, which was filled with excitement.

And then, the driver stepped out. The girl from that night. Her hair was curled and free, her green eyes wide and rimmed with kohl and a deep purple shadow. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, though it was cropped short, falling around her ribs, and a black skirt that could only be described as Gypsy-esque, swirling around her legs. She wore boots, too- old, scuffed up boots that looked similar to Sal’s own.

Damnable, they both looked. Beautiful. Sinful.

Oh, Sal was simultaneously regretting and oh, so grateful he’d decided to come tonight.


	6. Touch Faith, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maple and Ashley chat.  
> Larry doesn't know what to wear.  
> Sal was NOT prepared for this party.
> 
> And someone is watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS CHAPTER IS A MONSTER. 10 pages, 4k words. But it's an important chapter.   
> Mild spice occurs, but nothing major. Nah, the major shit happens in the next chapter, that's going to require me to boost up the rating on here.   
> Anywho, thank you all for reading! Your comments make me smile and laugh!!

_“Lift up the receiver;_  
 _I'll make you a believer.”_  
- _Personal Jesus_ , Depeche Mode

* * *

September 3rd, 1991  
9:00 a.m.

* * *

Ashley hummed as she tidied up around her house, the television playing softly in the background. Her plants were thriving! The ivy was steadily climbing the outside of her house, the aloe vera plant she’d had for years was big and beautiful, all of her succulents were happy and healthy. It made her happy, to see that her plants were happy. Back home in Seattle, it’d been difficult to raise any sort of plants in her little college dorm. But here, in this house she had all to herself?

She’d gotten as many plants as she could handle and shoved them into her house.

They hung from the ceiling in front of the windows, sat upon window sills, along shelves. Her front yard wasn’t much, really- there wasn’t enough space for her to plant a lot of pretty blooming flowers, but she had an azalea bush, and a pretty red rose bush that grew on either side of her front steps, both big and beautiful as they bloomed. 

She’d always enjoyed gardening. It made her sad she didn’t have much of a need for a garden anymore. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still have a small one- it was in her backyard, and the rich soil fed it nicely. She gave away most of the tomatoes and carrots and cucumbers that grew, keeping only a few for herself. Larry had taught her how to take care of herself, of this strange body. How she would need the nutrition that came from human blood, but also of actual food. 

Odd. So very odd.

The sound of a knock on her door had her spinning around, staring down the entrance as if it had personally offended her in some way. No one came to visit her, not this early. Larry would have phoned her. 

Grabbing hold of the object closest to her, which ended up being a hammer, she approached the door with caution, hammer held high. The door didn’t have a peep hole or any windows, so she had no idea just who could be lurking beyond. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother opening the door. But after what Larry had told her had happened with that woman being slaughtered like cattle, and then the incident with Sal…

She needed to be cautious. 

A deep, unnecessary breath, before she pulled the door open, ready to slam the hammer down-

Only to freeze, emerald hues wide as she stared at the woman before her. Slowly, she lowered her hammer and let out a long whine. “You done scared de _daylights_ outta me, Maple! I almos’ sent a damn hammer inner yer _skull_! Don’t _do_ dat! Phone me! Or like, yell t’hrough de door.”

The only response she got was a raised brow and an amused quirk of black painted lips. 

Maple slid into the house, pulling her hood back from her silver hair that she oh-so meticulously cared for. “You know I don’t gotta phone, right?” She asked, her Mississippian accent a gentle breeze compared to Ash’s own Cajun.

Or, mock-Cajun. She’d needed to fit in somehow and mimicking the accent had been far too easy for her to manage. It was like second nature, now. She couldn’t remember how her voice had sounded before.

When she was still human.

“Oh,” Flushing, Ash set the hammer aside, gently leaning the handle against the wall beside the door. “Well, what’s goin’ on? You ain’t normally ‘round in de dayligh’.”

Maple studied a pot of echeverias. “Chug’s havin’ a party tonight. He invited me and told me to invite anyone I wanted to.” She turned, ever elegant, her chocolate hues studying Ashley with an intensity that had Ashley squirming in place. “So I’m extendin’ that invitation t’you an’ Larry. And Travis.” 

“A party?” Ashley pursed her lips, head tilting to the side. “We ain’t had one in a while…” A smile curled her lips as she thought back on the weekend, on bumping into Sal. “Who all comin’ dat you know of?” She turned, picking up her watering pail once more to finish her rounds. 

Maple followed after, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor a pleasant background. “Chug, Todd, Neil,” Neil, a common friend between all of them. The one who had introduced Chug and Maple to one another. Neil, who had kept their secret for so long before revealing that he was also one of them. He was nearly as old as Maple was. “Some humans that Chug invited whose names I don’t remember- Neil invited Terrance, but he obviously won’t be attending- and their new little friend, Sal.” Sal. Sally. The cutie with the blue hair, the one that Larry was growing fonder and fonder of.

To the point that he’d painted him, a beautiful portrait of just the back of his head, hair free, standing before the Gulf of Mexico, a hurricane on the horizon.

“Count us in. We’ll grab de food.” She grinned, mind already running through what she would wear. “What time?” Maple had followed her through the house, the pair now standing in her bedroom.

Maple busied herself by looking through Ashley’s closet. “’Round seven thirty,” She replied over her shoulder as she pulled a lovely purple and black dress out. “When have you worn this?”

“I haven’t,” Ashley replied with a shake of her head. “Haven’t had de chance.”

“Mn.” Maple hummed and put it back into place. “I need to get goin’, sweetheart. I have some places I need to visit before tonight.”

That caught Ashley’s attention. Brows raising, she set her watering pale onto her night stand and turned, a hand on her hip. “What’s going on?” She asked, accent dropping completely. The way Maple was acting had her on edge. 

“Somethin’s happenin’…” Maple replied softly, shaking her head. “I dunno what it is, but somethin’s boutta happen. I’m lookin’ into the bones to see what they say.”

“Actual bones or…?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

* * *

September 3rd, 1991  
3:33 p.m.

* * *

“What do I _wear_?” Larry mumbled, staring at his closet in deep thought. “I mean, it’s out by Manchac, so it’s gonna be wet…” Dragging an annoyed hand through his damp hair, he turned towards Ashley, who was currently curling her hair. “Any suggestions?”

“Something hot.” Ashley replied before hissing as she burnt herself for the third time.

“Thanks for the help,” shaking his head, he turned back to his closet. “… Black jeans?”

“Yes.”

“… Ripped t-shirt?”

“Yes!”

“Leather jacket!”

“A staple! Yes! And your boots!” Ashley grinned as she finished with the curling, running her fingers through her hair. The curls weren’t tight, but rather big and loose. He crossed over to her and settled in behind her, combing his fingers through the reddish-brown strands. “How’re ya gonna do yer hair?”

“Listen, I _just_ figured out how to dress. Give my brain a few minutes to restart.” Larry yawned, leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arms looping around her waist loosely. “I like this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck as he fiddled with the edges of her crop top. It was long sleeved, but cut off around her last ribs, the front twisted. A soft, pleased noise left her lips. “And this,” he reached down, tugging at the sides of the flowy black skirt. His fingers crept along, pulling the fabric up slowly as he began to mouth at the side of her neck, trailing down to her shoulder. “Your shirt’s in the way.” He mumbled into her shoulder, receiving a bark of laughter from her.

“Travis is here,” she whispered, freeing herself from Larry’s hold. Larry groaned and fell back onto his bed.

“Aw, did I cockblock you?” Came the unexpectedly smooth voice of the blond from the bedroom door.

“I mean, you could always come and join!” Larry called back, not bothering to roll over to look at him. “The more the merrier. Plus, I bet you’d look _amazing_ on your knees, looking up at me, with tears in your eyes and-”

“I will flay you alive, Johnson, if you finish that sentence” Travis shook his head, brows raised in a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Larry finally rolled over and took in Travis’ appearance. Gone was his normal sweater, instead he wore a black v-neck long sleeved shirt and a pair of matching fitted jeans. “Hot,” he complimented with an approving nod.

“… Why are you only in your boxers?”

“Because I want to be free, Travy. And so do my balls.”

“I’m killing you. Right now.”

“Kinky!”

Ash snickered and turned back towards the mirror, focusing on her makeup.

* * *

“What kinda meat…?” Travis frowned, staring at the meat section of Walmart. 

“Good… meat?” Larry replied, shrugging, just as lost as the blond.

“Y’all…” Ashley shook her head and shoved between the two, leaning over the edge and surveying their selection before grabbing five packages of hamburger meat, and a few packages of hot dogs. “This.”

“That.” Larry and Travis echoed, nodding.

* * *

Travis took his own truck out, having to stop by and borrow a grill from one of his neighbors. Larry had his feet up on the dash of Ashley’s truck as they drove down I-10, heading towards Laplace. 

“Somethin’ weird is happenin’.” He suddenly broke the silence, causing Ashley to glance over to him with a raised brow, waiting for an explanation. “I dunno. I have this feeling…”

“Feeling…?” She asked, slowing down as they neared their turn off.

“Like,” Larry shook his head in frustration, “I just… Feel weird. Like, the air is charged or something. I dunno. Shit’s weird.”

“Funny you mention dat,” Ashley replied, tapping her fingers along to Jimi Hendrix’s _All Along The Watchtower_. “When Maple dropped in earlier, she mentioned somethin’ similar. Said she gotta look at de bones or somethin’.”

“Maple did?” Legs slipping from the dashboard, he sat up properly, brows furrowed. “Well, then somethin’ _is_ happenin’.” He’d trust Maple’s instincts long before his own. If she believed that something weird was happening, then something weird was happening that would require a close eye on things.

“Wanna s‘plain to me?” Ashley asked as they pulled onto the side road, smooth asphalt giving way to pothole filled, cracked asphalt and swamps lining the road. 

Larry shrugged, gaze drifting towards the swamp on his right. “You know Maple’s the oldest one ‘round here, yeah? Older then momma, though she doesn’t look like it. She was changed young by her lover- you know dat whole story.” The song changed over to _Sweet Emotion_ , and Larry began to tap along on his thighs. “But she’s seen things that we ain’t. Things momma’s just barely familiar wit’.”

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“If Maple says that shit is happenin’, we gotta git ourselves ready, too.”

Ashley didn’t reply. Larry glanced over, taking in the furrowed brows, the clenching of her jaw. He reached over and placed a gentle hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. Her jaw unclenched, and a small smile curled at burgundy painted lips. The asphalt changed to gravel.

Ashley didn’t slow down, even if it sounded like her truck was about to shake apart.

“Sal’s gonna be here,” she glanced over at him, lips breaking into a big grin as his hand tightened around her thigh. “You excited?”

“You didn’t _tell_ me he’d be there!” Larry whined, lip jutting out in a pout. 

“Well, now you know.”

Larry huffed and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out as they approached the clearing. 

The bonfire was already high, lighting the clearing and the surrounding bayou in a warm orange glow. And there- there he was. Larry couldn’t help but grin as Ashley parked her truck. He wasted no time in jumping out, ignoring how the ground made an audible _squish_ beneath his feet. Sal turned, and he watched as the human stiffened up, obviously just as surprised as Larry was. 

“Look at ‘im!” Ashley whispered, gaze sliding over Sal. “He got all dressed up fer ya.”

“The Gods need to look away tonight,” Larry murmured back as he closed the truck door and reached into the bed, grabbing out the bags of meat, “’cause so much sin is gonna happen tonight.”

Ashley cackled as they approached.

* * *

September 3rd, 1991  
8:30 p.m.

* * *

Sal swallowed heavily as he watched Larry approach, then walk past him, calling out a hello to the blond that was working on setting up the grill. Ashley, however, came over to him, a bright smile on burgundy lips.

“We ain’t been properly introduced yet,” she began, sticking out a hand. “My name’s Ashley Campbell. Sorry fer scarin’ ya de ot’er night.” 

Sal smiled behind his mask and took hold of her hand, shaking it- only to be tugged into a tight hug. Squeaking softly, he froze. But just as quickly as it happened, it was over. “It’s fi-fine. I’m, I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything-”

“Oh, you didn’t! We was just havin’ a grand ole time. You shoulda stuck ‘round! I t’ink you woulda liked it!” She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Larry approached. 

“Yer gonna give him a heart attack, Ash,” Larry teased, shaking his head as he draped a casual arm around Sal’s shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but lean into his grip. 

“You been down to the water yet?” Larry asked, prompting Sal to look up- and up. Wow. He was _tall_. Sal hadn’t realized just how tall he was until this moment. 

Shaking his head, he glanced towards Todd, who was busy helping Neil build the fire. And Chug was talking to Maple. “Nah- I didn’t know we could… Access it?” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question, but it ended up sounding like one regardless.

“C’mon, Sally.” Larry’s arm dropped from his shoulders as he backed away, thumbs hooking in his front belt loops. With the bonfire roaring, to life, Larry was painted in shades of red and orange and yellow and black. A painting of sin. 

Sal got the sudden urge to turn tail and run. He ignored that urge.

“If we see an alligator, I’m running.” He joked, head ducking as he sidled up to Larry’s side. He felt bad for leaving Ash behind, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed that she had busied herself with Neil and Todd, helping them out.

The walk to the bayou access was peaceful; the music echoed out behind them, mixing with the sounds of frogs and crickets and cicadas. The occasional splash sounded from something falling into the water. Sal hoped it was just a frog jumping in. He didn’t know how he’d react if he saw anything else. 

Larry was quiet on their walk, his hands in his pockets, his gaze drifting around their surroundings; he exhumed confidence. Sal found himself suddenly wanting to talk. “So, were you born in New Orleans…?”

“Naw, not New Orleans,” Larry replied, looking over to him with a lazy smile, “Lafayette. We moved to New Orleans when I was four. What about you? Born in Jersey?”

Sal tucked away that little piece of information. “Yeah- born and raised in New Jersey.”

“That’s why you got that accent o’ yours.”

“And why you have yours.”

Larry grinned, a viscous sight. “Touché, mon cher, touché.”

“Do you speak French?”

“I speak a bastardized version of French- but I do speak proper French. And Spanish.”

“Spanish, too?” Sal whistled, shaking his head. “I can barely speak French, let alone any other language.” 

Larry laughed, and it was just like how Sal imagined it to be- loud, from the gut, full. “My ma’s side o’ the family came from Spain, so I grew up listenin’ to her speak Spanish.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Sal smiled behind his mask, feeling himself begin to relax. “My mom used to sing French lullabies to me. I couldn’t ever understand them- I was too young.”

Now _that_ caught Larry’s attention. Pace slowing to a crawl, he considered his next question. Would it be rude to ask about what happened to his face? Maybe he should ask about his mom, first. He’d said _was_ , past tense. Meaning she wasn’t in his life anymore. “If it’s too invasive, ya don’t gotta answer. But… Your mom…” He trailed off, allowing the question to be unspoken and open.

Sal didn’t pause in his walking. “She passed away when I was six,” he answered easily, shrugging. “It was… A bad accident.”

A breath.

“It’s the same one that caused my face to get fucked up.”

Larry completely stopped walking then, brown hues wide in surprise. “Shit, dude,” he murmured, brows pinching, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean t’ pry…”

“It’s no big deal,” shaking his head, Sal looked everywhere _but_ at Larry’s face. This wasn’t the conversation he’d pictured himself having, but here he was, in the middle of the boondocks, talking about his dead mother and his face that looked like it went through a meat grinder. 

Larry rubbed the back of his neck before softly speaking, “I don’t think your face is fucked up.” He admitted, watching as Sal’s head snapped towards him. No doubt those eyes were wide behind that mask. “I think it’s quite beautiful, really.

Sal frowned, head tilting to the side. “Are you fucking with me? Because if you are, I will leave you here to be eaten by a fucking alligator.”

“I’m not.” Shaking his head, Larry stepped closer. “I mean it. Your face ain’t fucked.”

Sal’s gut was screaming for him to run, to leave. But he didn’t move, even as Larry moved closer, and closer. Until his hands were brushing the sides of Sal’s mask, tracing the straps, reaching around-

Larry froze, staring past Sal, his eyes narrowing. Sal felt the hair on his arms raise, felt like ice had been injected into his veins. 

“We should head back to the fire,” Larry murmured, retreating from Sal. Shivering, Sal nodded in agreement. He looked over his shoulder, eye straining to see whatever it was that had had Larry acting so weird suddenly. But he couldn’t see anything. But something was there.

Something was watching them.

Sal had learned over the years and on multiple camping trips with family how to tell if you were being hunted by an animal. To always listen to your gut. To keep your ears and eyes open. To never stray from the group.

They were being hunted.

“C’mon,” Larry reached out, grabbing his hand; Sal jolted at the cool touch. But then again, the air had cooled by a lot. “Prolly jus’ a racoon or somethin’.”

Racoon his ass. But Sal didn’t argue, just squeezed that hand that was so much bigger than his own and walked quickly beside Larry, almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. The entire time, he could feel it behind them.

And then, the sound of a twig snapping.

They didn’t hesitate, jumping into a sprint. Larry kept a tight grip on Sal’s hand, Sal squeezing his hand right back. Sal’s heart was in his throat as they ran, the fire coming back into full view as they neared the clearing.

He’d never been more relieved to see people in his life.

They slowed, breathing hard; Sal unclipped the second strap and raised the bottom of his mask so he could breathe. Larry had doubled over, hands on his knees, while Sal spun around and stared, hard, at the darkness. 

Nothing. He couldn’t see anything. But he’d felt whatever it was out there. And it wasn’t an animal. No, it gave him the same feeling that he’d had at his apartment.

“Food’s done!” Came Chug’s voice, echoing throughout the area. A cheer went up; more people had arrived in their absence.

“I’m fuckin’ _famished_!” Larry cried, grinning as he rose up. Sal’s stomach rumbled in agreement. Mask adjusted, he followed Larry to the grill, where the blond- Travis?- stood, dishing out hamburgers or hot dogs. 

“Travis, meet Sal. Sal, Travis.” Larry introduced quickly. Sal gave a small wave and received a simple nod in return, which wasn’t surprising, considering how the blond was also trying to make sure the food didn’t burn.

“Nice mask,” he complimented, giving a small smile. His left eye had a fading bruise surrounding it, Sal noted. But otherwise, he seemed… Nice. Tanned skin, blue eyes, blond hair. Cute, in a schoolboy sort of way.

“Thanks.”

“There you are!” Todd called, grinning. “C’mon, let’s eat!” He gestured to the logs that been set up around the fire as places to sit. Ashley and Neil had backed their trucks up to the edge as well for extra seating. Larry high tailed it over to Ashley, leaving Sal by himself.

“Here,” Travis suddenly spoke, catching Sal’s attention. He was holding out a bottle of water to him. “Figured you’d need a drink- and Todd said you don’t drink.”

It was a nice gesture. The shock continued when Travis motioned for Sal to come sit by him. Which was much appreciated, considering how everyone else seemed to have someone. He settled down on a log beside the blond and was met with a dilemma. 

His mask.

He hesitated, brows furrowing. He was hungry, yes- but he wasn’t about to take his mask off and eat in front of all of these people. Travis seemed to notice his hesitation and set his food aside.

“Here, gimme your plate, and turn around. Noone’ll see- I’m guessin’ this is ‘bout your mask…?” Relief surged through Sal, replacing the panic that was starting to crest. He turned around on the log and held his hand out for his plate, which was given.

Mask raised to reveal his mouth, he began to eat the hot dog. “’s gud,” he mumbled around the food, hearing a pleased noise come from beside him.

“Thanks- I don’t grill often, so…” Travis trailed off, shrugging. Sal nodded in understanding.

Silence fell between the two of them, though it was by no means silent in the clearing. Laughter, conversation, and music was accompanied by the crackling of the bonfire. It was nice, even with the scare that Sal had just dealt with. 

Sal pulled his mask down and turned around to face the fire, his stomach full and his skin warm from the flames. Travis’ gaze was unfocused as he ate, until Larry suddenly appeared and crouched down in front of them. 

Travis made a questioning sound, brows raising at Larry’s grin.

“Todd says you can sing.” He said, looking at Sal. “I have my guitar.”

“No.” Sal shook his head.

“Please.”

“No.

“Please?!”

“ _No_.”

“I’ll suck your dick if you do.”

“No- I… What?” Sal paused, cheeks tinting pink, neck flushing, the tips of his ears reddening. “No!”

“Oh, shit- I was joking, dude. Joking. Sorry if I insulted-”

“No, you didn’t, but I didn’t expect-”

“Oh my _god_ Larry stop _tormenting_ Sal.” 

“I didn’t mean to break him!”

“Who’s breaking?” Neil’s voice broke through, and Sal was so, so very grateful for the man in that moment.

“Larry’s flirting in a disgusting manner.” Travis explained, shaking his head.

“Larry, dude, bro, buddy, pal, chum- stop while you’re still ahead.” Neil teased, holding out a hand for the brunette to take. Larry pulled himself up with a pout.

“Sal, c’mon- one song!”

Realization dawned upon Neil. “Oh, you want him to sing?”

“Yes!”

Turning to Sal, Neil raised a brow. “I’ll sing with you, if you’d rather do that.”

Sal groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine- just… Fine.” He had been about to say ‘no dick sucking’ but man, wasn’t _that_ a rush of adrenaline from that thought alone. He cleared his throat and followed after Neil and Larry, Travis trailing behind. And soon enough, everyone had follower, crowding around the tailgate of Ashley’s truck.

Ashley had absconded her seat to instead sit on the side, while Sal and Larry sat on the tailgate. Neil leaned against the tailgate beside Sal. “Whatchu wanna sing?”

“Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, looking at Larry. “Do you know how to play that one?”

“Yeah, I do- it’s been a while, but I know it.” Larry flexed his fingers and strummed the guitar a few times before nodding.

“You start, I’ll follow,” Neil murmured, and Sal nodded, eyes closing as Larry began to play. He began to sing, hearing the song in his mind. His foot tapped air as he began to sway slightly. He could hear another voice joining- a female voice. Ashley? Maple? He wasn’t sure. But together, they created a haunting chorus for the Fleetwood Mac song. The song itself was haunting. “Rulers make bad lovers; you better put your kingdom up for sale,” he sang, voice rough as he accented the words. 

Larry was good; he did know the song. And knew it well. When the guitar faded out and the drums were supposed to kick in, he tapped on the body of the guitar, creating the drum beat for them. Sal let his voice drift out, letting the female voice drift in. He opened his eyes to look for the source, and found that it wasn’t Ashley, but rather, Maple, who swayed with the music. He watched in awe as she sang, transfixed by her. Neil had continued to sing as well, their voices polar opposites on the scale; she held a beautiful, airy soprano while Neil’s bordered on the line between tenor and bass.

The song ended, and an applause came up from their small group of twenty. Sal smiled as Neil bumped against his shoulder. “Like I said, you should come sing sometime at the bar. I’ll even duet with you.”

“You might have a deal, then.” 

Larry chuckled and set his guitar aside before sliding off the tailgate. “I’m gonna go on a walk,” he announced, causing Sal to tense up. “Don’t worry, Bluebird, I’ll bring someone with me.”

Bluebird. 

Sal ignored the way his heart skipped a beat.

“Travis, you wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sal leaned back, watching as the two of them walked together, Larry shoving Travis’ shoulder, Travis trying to trip Larry. “Dey be fine, Sally Face. Larry knows dese bayous like de back o’ his hand.” 

“It’s not that I don’t believe that,” Sal began, shaking his head, “but when we went out to the access, someo-… Something was there, watching.

He felt Ashley shift, felt the truck dip as she walked across the bed and settled down onto the tailgate beside him, legs crossed, skirt spilling over the edge. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“… Might’ve been a bobcat. Or a cougar.”

“Not helping.”

“Travis gots a gun in his truck. An’ so do I. We be fine.” Ashley replied with a reassuring grin. “So, wha’s New Jersey like? I only ever been to Jackson.” She changed the subject easily, watching as Sal’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief. 

Though, his words had crawled into her brain and rooted themselves there. Her gaze swept across the clearing, lingering on the shadows. 

Someone was watching them.

A glance towards Maple, and she knew that the elder knew, as well.

Shit.

She tried to ignore the way the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and focused instead on Sal excitedly babbling about his home. He was sweet, really. But something was off- about him. She couldn’t help but wonder who his parents were.

If his mother had ties here.

If his blood always smelled bitter and old.


	7. Touch Faith, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick romp in a swamp.  
> An accidental voyeur.  
> Dancing.  
> And an accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you might notice, but I've upped the rating on here! Because from here on out, things get more intense in multiple ways, not just smut wise (but there will be more smut; this was lowkey inspired by _Queen of the Damned_ after all). However, if you want to skip over the smut, then head down to "Enjor yer lil' journey?". That's where it officially ends.  
> I also want to make it known that I don't write smut often- I write angst and horror. Those are my zones. Smut is stepping out of my comfort zone.   
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! I look forward to hearing your responses to it!   
> Thank you!

_“I will deliver; you know I'm a forgiver._  
 _Reach out and touch faith.”_  
 _Personal Jesus_ , Depeche Mode

* * *

September 3rd, 1991  
11:35 p.m.

* * *

Larry let out a long sigh as they disappeared from the view of the clearing. “So, whattya think ‘bout Sal?” He asked out of curiosity, watching as Travis rubbed the back of his neck.

“He’s… Nice.” He admitted, brows furrowing. “He smells… Good. But different.”

“So, it isn’t just me an’ Ash that noticed."

“Whattya think ‘bout it?”

Larry shrugged, shaking his head. “Dunno. I’m trying to figure it out myself…” He trailed off, gaze sweeping across the bayou. He couldn’t _see_ anything, but he could hear them: owls swooping, crickets chirping a chorus, toads bellowing, alligators swimming through the waters, searching for their next meal. The fireflies had long since floated away, their show over for the night. Even with the cool northern wind that had kicked up, the humidity still clung to the air, making itself known. It wouldn’t leave until late October at the earliest; this cold spell would only last for a few days before the heat swelled back up.

They were still in peak hurricane season, after all. 

“So,” Travis broke the silence, his steps slowing, slowing, until he all but stopped, leaning back against an oak, whose branches hung low with Spanish moss, “why’d you bring me out here, Johnson?”

Larry gave the area one last sweep with his gaze before a slow, sultry smirk curled his lips. He took on step, then another, closing in on the blond. “You know damn well why I brought you all th’way out here, Phelps.”

Travis’ eyes narrowed as he watched Larry’s every move. “You’re horrible.” He stated simply as the brunette closed in, one hand pressed to the bark of the tree beside Travis’ head, the other gripping his hip tightly. A shudder danced through him at the pleasant pressure, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to submit.

Submit.

_Submit_.

“You love it,” Larry whispered before ducking down, capturing Travis’ lips in a harsh kiss. He wasted no time, nipping at his bottom lip just enough to get the blonde to gasp. A chuckle mixed into the kiss as fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands none-too-gently. “You love this. You get off on the thrill of being caught,” he murmured against his lips, feeling the shudder that danced through him. He pressed closer, slotting his thigh between the smaller vampire’s, who responded with a tight groan.

Larry pulled back from the kiss, taking in the dilated pupils, the swollen lips, the _desperation_ that colored his face. “You should see yerself,” he whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. “See how much of a fuckin’ wreck you are. Bet I could make you come just from kissin’ you. I can already feel how hard you are. Yer jus’ desperate, ain’t you?”

Travis couldn’t respond, his head thrown back, lips parted as soft moans left his lips as he worked his hips, grinding against Larry’s thigh. His hands were still tangled in chocolate locks. “You, _fuck_ , talk too much, Johnson.”

“You like it.” Larry repeated, leaning down to nip at his neck. “You like this, being fucked in the middle of the bayou with the party happening behind you. You like th’ _thrill_ o’ this. Yer a fuckin’ slut, Phelps.”

“Says the one who dragged me a- _ah_ -all the way out here.” Travis hissed when Larry bit down suddenly- not enough to break the skin, but enough to give Travis pause, that thread of worry weaving through him. Though that worry faded rather quickly when Larry’s hand left his hip to fiddle with his fly. “Yer the one that’s a _slut_. You were practically droolin’ over Blue.”

Larry snarled, pulling away from Travis’ neck to glare down at the blond. “Shut yer _mouth_.” He hissed back, eyes narrowed.

Travis just grinned in response and let his hands finally drop from his hair.

Larry rolled his eyes and pulled back, letting his gaze sweep over Travis. “I t’ink I gotta better idea for yer mouth,” he murmured as he reached up, brushing a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help the fondness that swept through him as Travis leaned into his touch; it brought back memories of past escapades. Sweeter moments that weren’t a quick fuck in the middle of a bayou.

Travis was already a step ahead, pushing back from the tree, gripping Larry’s forearms, and turning him, slamming him back into the bark. “Try _not_ to scream, yeah?” Travis taunted as he began trailing kisses across Larry’s jaw, slow, lingering, with the occasional nip as he wove a path down his neck. Larry let his eyes close, let his head tilt back against the oak tree. He was aching already; hell, he’d been aching since he’d gotten Sal to go out on that walk with him.

He shook his head, forcing the idea away from his mind. He cracked open his eyes, gaze drifting down to the blond head between his thighs. How he’d managed to get down there so quickly to already have his zipper undone. “Damn, Johnson. You’re already makin’ a damn _mess_.” Travis snickered, licking his lips as he tugged Larry’s jeans down. “And no underwear? Kinky.”

“Would ya _shut up_?”

“Shut me up yerself.”

“Open yer mouth an’ I wi-oh, holy _fuck_!” Larry had to slap a hand over his mouth when Travis suddenly took him in, and in, and _in_ , all the way to the base. It had his mind blanking, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t been prepared, but Travis had been, apparently. 

Travis’ mouth was sinful, hot and wet and damn his tongue and that damned piercing. He shuddered when the barbell was dragged across his head, a groan spilling free. Travis hummed, bobbing his head slowly- too slowly, but the iron grip he had on Larry’s hips had him held in place. He backed off, letting his hand take over for a moment, stroking slowly up, then down, back up- his thumb rubbing over the head, nail just barely scraping against the sensitive skin. “Listen to ya. You say I’mma slut, but we both know who th’ real slut is. Look at that- yer leaking all over my hand.” Tavis cooed as he leaned down, having the _gall_ to lick him like a lollipop.

Larry tried to respond, but his voice wouldn’t work, not when Travis’ hands slipped down to his thighs, when his nails dug into his skin. His head fell back, the ghost of a moan leaving his lips as Travis teased him with a torturous pace, that damned tongue curling around him. He could feel blunt nails scraping, scratching along the inside of his thighs, a biting pain that had him seeing stars. The chorus of nature surrounding them faded into the background as he focused on the pleasure, of the blond head that bobbed slowly between his legs. He reached down, tangling a hand in those silky locks.

He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the sudden jarring feeling of teeth- pointed teeth- scraping ever so gently against the head. 

Travis seemed to sense this, because he suddenly doubled his efforts, humming while hollowing out his cheeks. Larry felt that familiar coil tightening, felt the tips of his fingers begin to tingle. He let out a whine that was a semblance of _please_ , and felt Travis’ hand squeeze his left thigh, an a-okay for him to finally fall apart.

And fall apart he did.

Head falling forward, hips stuttering, he bit down on his own hand to keep from being too loud, but moans still spilled free, filling the air. Travis had stilled, swallowing everything Larry had to offer. He pulled back when Larry sagged back against the tree, giving the head kitten licks, cleaning him off.

“Congrats on _not_ yelling for once.” He teased, voice rough; his throat undoubtedly raw from taking him down. 

Larry simply gave him a vulgar gesture that had a laugh spilling free from Travis. 

It took him a minute longer before he was able to move, tucking himself back into his pants. It was then that he realized that Travis was still on his knees, still hard. A brow raised as he glanced back towards the party before looking down at the blond. A smirk curled his lips as he held out a hand to help him up. Travis took hold of his hand, pulling himself up- only to be tugged forward and trapped in Larry’s arms. 

“You’re still _hard_ , Travvy.” He murmured against the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder against him. “Turn around, face the tree.” Travis obeyed, turning around, bracing himself, resting his forehead against his arm as Larry settled in behind him, practically laying across his back. He reached down, fingers sliding beneath his shirt, ghosting his fingertips across his stomach. 

“You’re a dick,” Travis whispered, shuddering from the teasing movements of Larry’s fingers. But Larry just grinned, pressing feather light kisses on the back of Travis’ neck. Travis shifted, legs spreading wider, back arching as Larry slid his thigh back between his legs. “A dick but god _damn_.”

“Hush now,” Larry murmured, unzipping Travis’ jeans and reaching in, surprised to find bare skin. “An’ you said _I_ was a slut fo’ not wearin’ underwear, Hypocrite.” He bit down at the base of his neck, this time breaking the skin. Travis let out a surprised noise, spine going rigid before he melted in his arms, a soft groan leaving his lips.

Larry grinned against his skin as he pulled him free, rubbing his thumb over the head to gather the pre that had beaded up. He hummed, resting his chin on Travis’ shoulder as he slowly stroked down. Travis shuddered, brow furrowing at the feeling of Larry’s palm against his skin. “Hang on,” he whispered, reaching down and grabbing hold of his hand. He raised it up to his mouth before taking the thumb into his mouth, licking his own essence from it, before Larry pulled his hand free. 

“Sick,” he taunted as he pressed two, then three fingers in, pressing down against his tongue. “Yer sick, Travis.” 

Travis whined softly, rocking his hips against Larry’s thigh. A snicker escaped Larry as he removed his fingers before reaching back down, gripping him firmly. He started up an easy pace, letting Travis ride his thigh while he thrusted into his hand.

That’s when he heard it.

Larry didn’t freeze or tense up- no, he didn’t need nor want Travis to get spooked. Instead, he rolled his head to the side casually, honey gaze slipping across their surroundings, when he caught a flash of blue. Blue. Oh, now things were interesting. A thrill danced through him as he watched Sal peek out.

Their gazes met, and Sal froze in place, watching.

Larry winked and pressed another kiss to Travis’ neck, curling his fist over the head, getting a strangled whine from him. An idea crossed his mind, and he let his free hand travel up, wrapping around Travis’ throat, squeezing gently, but not giving him enough of a reason to raise his head up. He could feel him shaking beneath him, shuddering.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered as Travis’ whines picked up, only to be cut off by Larry’s hand squeezing. He felt him tense up, right on the cusp-

He released his throat the same moment Travis came, causing him to let out a harsh, wheezing groan as he shuddered, painting the oak tree white. His knees shuddered, and Larry held onto him, arms wrapping around his waist as he panted. But even as he pressed kisses to his neck, even as he whispered how good he was in his ear, his gaze was trained on Sal, and the tent -the other was pitching.

A smirk curled his lips as Sal slipped back into the shadows.

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
12:15 a.m.

* * *

Sal had gotten curious. They had been gone for a long time. Ashley had wandered away, talking with people Sal hadn’t bothered to learnt he names of; Todd and Neil were sitting close to one another, talking; Chug and Maple were tending to the fire. He was left alone.

So he’d wandered, following the trail that Travis and Larry had taken.

He should have known better, really. 

They hadn’t gone too far; Sal had hidden behind a large oak tree a good fifteen feet away, listening to them talk. He couldn’t make out their exact conversation, but he could tell the moment it all changed. It was as if the air had suddenly become charged. He shouldn’t have watched, he shouldn’t have listened, he should have left. 

But he didn’t.

He listened to Larry’s moans, to Travis’ taunts, to the sound of gagging and by God, he was getting hard. He was getting hard listening to Travis suck Larry off. He should leave. He should go.

But the sound of Larry’s sudden muffled groaning had him freezing in place, his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes wide as he realized what had just happened. Oh, no. Oh, no. He swallowed roughly and pushed his mask up over his mouth, gulping down the humid yet cool air. Oh, fuck. He’d never come back from this. He stared down at his pants, cursing his hormones. 

He should go.

He needed to go.

He turned, peeking around the tree-

And met honey hued eyes.

He froze again as Larry’s eyes widened, then narrowed, a smirk curling his lips. He’d changed his position, with Travis now braced against the tree. And what a sight that was, really; Larry’s hair a mess from Travis’ hands, Travis’ hair mused from Larry’s hands. Travis’ dick out- oh, that was a pretty dick. Travis had a pretty dick that was leaking and oh, _fuck_ , Larry’s hand wrapped around it was even better.

Sal wanted that.

Wanted… Both? Larry? Travis? To be in Travis’ position? To be in Larry’s position? 

He didn’t know what he wanted. But he wanted.

And he watched as Larry jerked Travis off, as Travis rode his thigh, as, oh, _fuck_ , as Larry’s hand rose to Travis’ throat and squeezed.

As Travis came with such a lovely sound.

Sal swallowed dryly as Larry kept his gaze locked on him. He needed to _go_. He moved quietly, thankful for the moss that covered the ground, and away- around the edge of the clearing, staying in the shadows. His hands were shaking. He needed…

Fuck.

He would be quick; hell, he was surprised he hadn’t creamed his pants yet. He wasted no time in tugging his pants open and pulling himself free. 

It was over in a matter of minutes, with muffled moans and harsh gasps.

He stared at the mess he left and shook his head. This was a first.

He also didn’t let his mind linger on what he’d just done. No, instead, he tucked himself away, fixed his mask, and made his way back to the party. Larry and Travis weren’t back yet. But Ashley noticed him and came bounding over with a bright smile. 

“Enjoy yer lil’ journey?” She asked, hooking her arm through one of his, tugging him back towards the fire.

More people had shown up. People that dressed like Maple and Ashley.

His sort of people.

“I managed to get down to the bayou access- it’s beautiful. In a… Haunting sort of way.” Sal lied easily, leaning against her. She was taller than he was- then again, most people were. He was only 5’2”, after all. All of the people in his family were short- he was cursed to be short.

Maybe he should start wearing heels.

“Didja see any sorts o’ creatures?” She asked as she tugged him along towards her truck. “I love seein’ de hoot owls swoop down!”

“I saw a few toads…?” He shrugged, “I’m glad I didn’t see an alligator or anything.”

“Or a water moccasin. Dey’s dangerous.”

“A what now?”

“Water moccasin! Lil’ ole poisonous snake. Deys everywhere out here.”

Sal let that information sink in for a minute before climbing up and into the bed of Ashley’s truck. “I’m staying here for the rest of the night.” He decided right then and there.

Ashley let out a loud peel of laughter as she ducked into the cab of the truck. 

Sal settled in on her toolbox, which gave him quite the vantage point of the entire clearing. Todd and Neil were dancing, their arms wrapped around each other tightly. Sal felt rude for even looking, his cheeks flushing behind his mask. Shaking his head, he looked away, taking in Chug with an ax-… An ax? Why did he? Oh- oh, wood. He’s chopping firewood for the bonfire. 

Maple had drifted away from her boyfriend, towards the edges of the fire- towards him. He shifted, watching as she did indeed come to Ashley’s truck. She made herself comfortable on the tailgate, adjusting the skirt of her dress before settling. 

“Enjoying the party?” She asked, and it took Sal a minute to realize that her accent was nowhere _near_ as severe as Ashley’s was, or even Larry’s. Softer, melodic. He liked it.

“It’s been interesting so far,” he replied with a shrug before slipping off of the toolbox. He took careful steps before settling down beside her; she had a red cup full of some clear liquid. He didn’t know enough about alcohol to know what it was.

“You don’t drink.” It wasn’t a question.

“No- alcohol addiction runs in my family. I avoid it.”

“Smart boy.” He could see a smile curl the corner of her lips. The praise made him flush and look away.

She had an air about her that made her feel… Older. Mature. Despite how Chug had said she was only a year older than him, putting her at nineteen. But the way she held herself- straight back, shoulders relaxed, head held level. She was an old soul, he decided. 

“Oh, look,” she spoke, nodding towards the edge of the woods. “Larry and Travis are back. And Larry’s hair is up.” A knowing tone took to her voice, making Sal wonder just how _often_ that happens, that the two of them sneak off. “Often,” she replied, as if she could read his thoughts. “No, I can’t read minds.” He stared at her, watching as she tilted her head back and laughed, her entire face lighting up. “You tensed up, Sal. I’m good at reading people- I’m going to college for psychology. It’s sort of what I do.” The explanation didn’t have him relaxing much, but it made sense.

“So, are they…?”

“Together? Heavens, no, chil’. They’d kill each other if they got the chance.”

“Oh…” Sal tucked that information away, nodding slowly. “So then, that…” 

“Just a little fun.” She explained, before turning to look at him fully. He didn’t turn to look at her- couldn’t. She was reading him, he realized with a start. “I like you, Sal.” She nodded, just once, and slid off of the tailgate, making her way around the bonfire to where Chug was.

“Thank… You?” His voice was too quiet for her to hear, but he felt like he should at least thank her.

He heard the footsteps before he realized who it was that was approaching, and by then it was too late to run. Shit. Shit shit shit shit-

“Bluebird.” Larry greeted, settling onto the edge of the tailgate oh-so casually. He leaned back on his hands, looking far too pleased with himself. Sal let himself look, finally, and took in the way Larry’s hair still looked amazing, even when it was all tied up into a pony tail with a few strands left out around his face. It put his neck on display- a neck that, Sal was loathe to admit, had a few red splotches across it.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention. Rather, it was the scar- small, but right across the jugular vein. Vaguely circular. 

“Enjoy yourself?” He croaked out, cursing his voice for failing him in that moment. Larry didn’t seem to notice, or was just polite enough to not point it out. 

“I should be asking _you_ that, shouldn’t I?” He replied with a smirk, head lolling over to stare him down. Unabashedly, for his gaze swept slowly over his form, lingering on his crotch. “Took care of your lil’ problem?” He asked softly, much to Sal’s embarrassment.

He was about to respond when Todd called out to him. “Come on, come dance!” 

Dance? Dance he could do. 

Using that as an excuse to leave Larry, he all but leaped from the tailgate, making his way over to where Todd and Neil, and Maple, and Chug- and pretty much everyone had gathered. Even Travis, he noted.

Oh. _Oh_. Shit. Fuck.

He spun around, coming face to face with Ashley, who squeaked in surprise the same time Sal yelped.

“Dance wit’ me, Sally!” She called as the music grew louder from someone’s truck- or, rather, multiple truck speakers. AC/DC was playing. Sal grinned and nodded, taking her hand and spinning her. 

They danced like that, just spinning and laughing, twirling and hugging and twisting. No one was that well-coordinated- aside from Neil and Travis, and wasn’t that an interesting sight to see- so it was mainly a mess of limbs flailing and loud laughter. 

Until _Personal Jesus_ came on.

Things changed, then. Sal wasn’t sure how to explain it, but the air felt… Different. Not electric, but… He couldn’t place it. But he had arms slipping around his waist, and he couldn’t escape if he wanted to. He turned, and blond hair came into view, and there Travis was, all smirks and sin. He should have pulled away; his gut screamed at him to turn away. But he didn’t.

Maybe his gut was wrong. 

Instead, he stepped closer, close enough that their chests bumped, and _danced_.

He could vaguely hear someone whistling, but his attention was on the way Travis’ pupils were dilated, how he licked his lips, how his hands gripped his hips, how he moved them both in such a sinful way. 

He didn’t want the connection to end, didn’t want to leave, but the song was over before he was ready for it to be and Travis was moving away with a wink.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Todd exclaimed, shaking his head. “Sal, dude, you gotta teach me how to move like that sometime.”

“And let me watch,” Neil teased, draping an arm around Todd’s shoulders. Sal flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Truth was, he didn’t know what had come over him. But in those few minutes, everything had slipped away except for Travis, and the feel of him, and the grip on his hips.

Shit, maybe he just needed to get laid.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, nodding, even though he fully intended on not doing that, because he had no idea how he did that.

“We’re heading out,” Todd decided, looking towards Chug and Maple, “Chug’s going home with Maple tonight…” Todd trailed off, looking over to Sal.

Sal realized, with no small amount of panic, that Todd was insinuating that he should find his own way home. “I’ll… Catch a ride with Ash. Or Travis.” He replied, ignoring the lump that had formed suddenly in his throat at the thought of being left behind. 

“We can take ya home, Sal,” Neil offered, and bless that man for being so kind. But Sal didn’t want to intrude.

“Nah, it’s fine. Larry lives in the apartments, and Ash lives… Close. So.” A shrug, which left Todd’s shoulders sagging slightly in relief. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Todd promised before turning and all but running to the truck. Neil gave a small wave, and one last look over of the clearing, before jogging back to his truck.

“Well, that’s sort of shitty of them,” a voice spoke over his shoulder, and Sal looked up and back to find Larry standing there, arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown on his lips.

Sal shrugged. “They deserve their alone time. I’d be intruding.” 

“Still, they brought you out here.” He countered easily before turning. “C’mon, we’ll bring ya home.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yeah, we do. Or Travis does. One of us needs to. That was a shitty move.”

Sal sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he followed after Larry to where Ash and Travis stood, talking. Ashley looked vaguely annoyed, while Travis looked ready to start a fight.

“Sal’s pals ditched him,” Larry cut in, causing the pair to look over to them. Sal ducked his head, subconsciously trying to make himself seem as small as possible. “So, someone’s takin’ him home.”

“He gotta sit in de back o’ my truck.” Ashley shook her head, brows furrowing. “I’d love t’take ya home, Sal, but…”

“I will.” Travis shrugged, stepping forward. “It ain’t a problem; the only thing I have is th’grill, and that just goes in the bed.” 

“So, we all headin’ out?” Larry asked, looking around the clearing. “E’eryone else can head off whenever they all wanna.” 

“Yeah, it’s gettin’ late.” Travis replied, nodding. “C’mon, Sal. Ya can help me tear that grill apart.”

“On it.” Sal gave a small wave to Ashley and Larry, the pair backing towards Ashley’s truck. 

He followed after the blond, glancing around. Chug and Maple had disappeared, but everyone else was lingering. The night was late, or maybe it was still young? He wasn’t sure. But he watched as Travis tore the grill apart, dumping the charcoal out and closing it up. 

They didn’t speak much while packing things up; Sal didn’t exactly know what to say. Larry and Ashley had already left. Chug and Maple were gone. Todd and Neil- long gone. Sal leaned against the side of the truck; it was _tall_. Taller than Neil’s. Sal tried to remember the name of the model- a Scottsdale? He was fairly certain it was a Scottsdale. It was big, and black, and Sal momentarily wondered how he was supposed to get in.

“Let’s git ya home.” Travis muttered, opening up the door and climbing inside. Sal followed suit, struggling only for a moment to get into the large truck. “Oh- shit, sorry. I forget this thing is so high off the ground. But it makes it good for muddin’.”

“Mudding?” 

“Yeah, y’know, when it rains and you go out to the fields or back roads and just… Flore it through the deep puddles.”

“… Yeah, we didn’t do that back in Jersey.”

Travis let out a laugh- surprisingly light. It was… Nice. “I didn’t think y’all would.”

Sal snickered and settled in, suddenly glad to be inside rather than in the bed of the truck. “Where do you live?” He asked out of curiosity as he looked about the interior of the truck. Rosary beads hung from the rearview mirror; a few water bottles were in the floor board. But otherwise, it was clean. Nice. 

“Warehouse District.” Travis replied as he pulled out of the clearing, his headlights bright on the road, reflecting in the swamp.

“That’s…”

“’Bout twelve minutes from Gentilly. It’s by the French Quarter.”

“Oh.”

Sal fiddled with the ends of his sleeves, lips pursing behind the mask as he thought on what to say. That is, until Travis broke the silence.

“You saw us.” He didn’t sound _mad_ \- more bored than anything. But Sal still tensed up, eyes widening in surprise, fear striking every single chord in his body. 

“I-I didn’t-”

“I don’t mind.” Travis shrugged, glancing over to him. “Wouldn’t be th’first time. Larry has a bad habit of choosin’ th’worst times and worst places.”

“So, that…”

“Happens often? Naw. Once in a blue moon. He ain’t the type to sleep ‘round- much, at least. He’s pretty private, really. I’m surprised you’ve gotten past his defenses so fast”

Defenses? Sal hummed, shifting in his seat, tucking one leg under the other. If Larry was defensive- how had he gotten him to lower them so quickly? It didn’t make much sense to Sal, really.

“I have a question.” Travis reached over, turning the volume of the radio down. “I don’t mean t’pry, but-”

“The mask?”

“What? No, no,” shaking his head, he reached out and braced Sal as the truck lurched onto pavement, the transition from gravel to smooth roads a bumpy one. Sal looked down at the hand pressed to his chest- cool, not warm. But it was cool out, and in the cab of the truck. “Are you gay?”

“Gay?” Sal blinked in confusion for a moment before shaking his head. “No- I swing both ways.” That… Was not the question he’d been expecting.

“Really?” Travis hummed, tapping the steering wheel. “Good to know.”

Sal nodded mutely, his gaze falling from the road to the radio. It was almost two in the morning. No wonder why he felt drained. He was normally passed out by now, unless a nightmare woke him. He stifled a yawn, eyes closing for just a moment-

Until Travis let out a surprised yell, pressed that hand against Sal’s chest again. Sal didn’t know what happened until it had already happened, the truck bumping over something in the road.


	8. Down Comes The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things That Go Bump (when you hit them with your truck) Bump Back.  
> LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH.  
> French pastries & tea.  
> A kiss- sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 13 pages in Word so that's fun. No real warnings for this chapter except for the feeling of unease, that should stay with you until the end. And even then.  
> The next chapter will be an interlude of sorts- it's gonna be long, and it's gonna be a flash back that will explain some things.  
> And the chapter after _THAT_ is a timeskip.
> 
> Also, I might make a playlist for this fic? I don't know if I should use 8tracks or Spotify. Lemme know what would work better? 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me that you all are liking this.

_“Running in the shadows.”_  
_The Chain_ , Fleetwood Mac

* * *

September 4th 1:58 a.m.

* * *

Travis drove for a few more feet before stilling, breathing hard, eyes wide as he stared ahead. “You okay?”

“What the _fuck_ did we just hit?” Sal asked, trying to turn, but Travis had a hard grip on him. “Travis, what did we-”

“Deer, I think. Someone might’ve hit it earlier, and it just… Stay here. I’m gonna…” He reached behind the seats, releasing Sal. He pulled free a shotgun, which was rather surprising. But Sal reached out, gripping Travis’ arm.

“Don’t. Get. Out.” He whispered, eyes wide as terror pumped through his veins, overtaking adrenaline. Something wasn’t right. His stomach hurt, his hair was standing on end. “Don’t get out, please, don’t get out.” 

Travis took one look at Sal, at the hand gripping his arm, at how hard he was shaking, and slowly put the gun back. Instead of getting out, he sat up, looking in the rearview mirror before adjusting the angle, trying to see.

Sal turned around in his seat, staring at the road behind them. Nothing was there. Nothing at all. But they had _hit_ something. They had hit something! He shook his head, brows furrowed as he looked over to Travis. “Nothing’s there.”

“I know.”

“Why isn’t something there?”

“I don’t know.”

Sal’s hands were shaking hard enough for him to warrant sitting on them. He was going to have an anxiety attack. He was going to puke. He needed air, needed to get out, needed to get away from here.

Travis reached over and placed a hand on his knee. “We’re leaving.” He announced, his hand leaving Sal’s knee. Sal hunkered down, shaking fingers reaching up to unclip the second strap. He pushed the mask up to breathe.

Travis put the truck back into drive, ready to take off, when something hit the back. The pair froze, staring straight ahead, neither one daring to move. 

_Bump_.

_Bump_.

_BUMP_.

**BANG!**

Travis stepped on the gas, the tires skidding before the truck took off. Sal went to turn around to look, but Travis reached out, yanking him back down. “Sit the fuck down and stay down!” He yelled, his own eyes wide, his hands having a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. 

That in and of itself was enough to get Sal to sit his ass down and stay down. 

Travis handled the road with ease, dodging potholes without problem. But his grip didn’t ease up until they swerved onto the highway. Only then did he relax, though just barely. His jaw was clenched as he stared ahead, brow furrowed, deep in thought. He reached up, dragging a hand through his hair, shoving his bangs back. If Sal wasn’t still on the verge of having a damn anxiety attack, he would have thought the look to be handsome.

“What the fuck did you see?” He asked, voice trembling as he slowly sat up, studying the blond’s face.

Travis shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Was it a person?”

Silence.

“Did we just hit a fucking person? Did that person just get up and _attack your truck_?”

“I don’t know, Sal. I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“What the fuck. What the…” Sal let out a laugh, a sound bordering on hysterical. “What the absolute fuck is going on?”

“We’re goin’ to Ashley’s.”

“Why.”

“Because I don’t wanna take you back to Addison Apartments and leave you there alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone-”

“Sal. Don’t argue.” The finality in his voice was enough to have Sal falling silent. Maybe that was a good idea. He didn’t want to go home, not after that. Didn’t want to be alone.

The drive to Ashley’s place took them away from Gentilly, towards the Ninth Ward. Neither spoke another word as they drove, the radio playing softly. Sal watched the lights blur past, tapping his finger on his thigh. He wanted comfort, he wanted to be told everything was okay. But it wasn’t. So he sat, an anxious ball. He should have brought his medication. 

“Hey,” Travis broke the silence, reaching over to give Sal’s knee a comforting squeeze. “Breathe. We’ll… Figure it out.”

“Right.” Sal shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “Right.”

Ashley’s house was small, but quaint. And her truck was parked under a little car port. There were lights on inside the house, too. Travis pulled into the drive and killed the engine, pocketing his keys before jumping out. It took Sal a moment longer for him to be able to move, and Travis opened his door for him, offering a hand to help him down.

They didn’t go to look at the tailgate. 

Travis knocked hard, loud, the door almost shaking on its hinges. The sound of voices drew close, and the door was thrown open, revealing Ashley in a tank top and shorts, her hair tied up in a messy bun, her makeup gone. Larry stood behind her, shirtless and in a pair of pajama pants, his own hair in a low braid that fell over his shoulder.

Ashley took one look at the pair and stepped aside, ushering them in. Larry stepped out after they entered, looking around, before stepping back in and closing the door. And locking it.

“Ya want some tea, sugar?” Ashley asked Sal softly, a gentle hand on his shoulder, leading him out of the front room and to the kitchen.

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
2:30 a.m.

* * *

“What happened?” Larry asked Travis quietly, having stepped into the spare bedroom he had been chilling in.

“Something attacked us on our way out.” Travis replied, shaking his head.

“Whattya mean, something?” Larry crossed his arms over his chest.

“As in, something that looked a lot like a fucking human except for the fact that it had fucking _blood_ all over the front of it.”

Larry balked, eyes wide. “Did you hit it?”

“No. Yes? No- look, it was in the road. And I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“So, was it _human_?”

A pause. “No.” Travis shook his head. “No, it fuckin’ wasn’t. That much I can say with confidence.

Larry dragged his hands over his face, groaning softly. “We gotta go talk to Maple in th’mornin’.”

“What ‘bout Sal?”

“Shit.”

“Double shit.”

“… I’ll bring ‘im home. Ash can go with you. I’ll take her truck, you can drive out t’Maples.”

“Right.” Travis sighed, shaking his head. “Sal’s fuckin’ terrified. You should… Go talk to him. Calm ‘im down.”

“Right…” Larry nodded, hand on the doorknob. “Just-… Thank you. For takin’ care o’ him.”

“I dunno what you’s doin’,” Travis shook his head, “but that kid ain’t right. Larry- he ain’t right. He don’t… Smell right. His blood smells wrong.”

“I know. Why d’ya think I’m keepin’ an eye on him?”

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
2:45 a.m.

* * *

Sal sat at Ashley’s kitchen table, a cup of chamomile tea clutched between his hands. He’d stopped shaking, thankfully- but he still felt ready to puke. Ashley hadn’t said much, just shuffled about her kitchen, making herself a glass as well before sitting down beside him. She’d completely invaded his personal space, leaning against his side, her head on his shoulder.

But that’s what he’d needed. Wanted.

“C’mon, Sal.” Larry spoke up, voice soft. “We’re goin’ back home.”

“Now?” Sal asked, brows furrowing, head tilting to the side. “It’s late- I don’t wanna wake dad up.”

“Stay at my place, then.” He’d put on a shirt, but didn’t bother changing into actual pants. “Ash, ‘m borrowin’ yer truck.”

“Stay de night.” Ashley replied, shaking her head. “It too damn late. Sal an’ I can share, or Sal an’ Travis, or you an’ Sal. Or someone can take de couch. But yens ain’t goin’ nowheres dis late. Sal’s too damn shaken up, and Travis ain’t much better.”

“Hey.”

“You knows I’m right.”

“… She has a point.” Travis agreed, shaking his head. “I’ll crash wherever ya got room, Smash.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Sal shook his head, gripping onto the mug tightly, so tight that he feared it would break if he didn’t let go, let go, _let go_. A hand covered his own, nails painted a vivid royal purple, long and pointed. Ashley. She carefully pried the cup from his hands. “Not until it’s daylight. I don’t-”

“Okay, okay, bluebird.” Larry interrupted, grabbing a chair and pulling it beside Sal. “Calm down. Y’all aint goin’ anywhere.” He reached out, hand twining with a smaller, much more scarred one. “Y’all gonna stay here, and in th’ mornin’, we’ll go home, okay?”

A nod.

“Okay. Trav, where ya gonna sleep?”

“Couch?”

“I got an idea!” Ashley declared, standing up suddenly, causing Sal to jump. “Oosh, sorry, sweetie. But how ‘bout dis- we _all_ sleep in de livin’ room! Larry an’ Travis can drag out de mattresses, and we can all just sleep dere!”

Sal considered it, studying the hand that was held in Larry’s. That sounded nice- to be surrounded. He didn’t want to be alone. “Sure,” he nodded, looking up to Larry’s face, then Travis, then Ashley. 

“Do you sleep with your mask on?” Larry asked softly as Ashley dumped the teas and Travis disappeared to dress down.

“I can. It’ll just be a little irritating. But I’m used to it.” Sal replied, shrugging. 

Larry nodded and stood, stretching his arms up and over his head. Sal let his gaze drift, taking in the tanned skin, the light musculature, the happy trail that disappeared beneath his pajama pants. “Ash got some clothes that might fit ya.”

Ashley hummed in agreement. “I got some old band tees and some pajama pants that’ll fit ya! No offense, but ya look to be ‘round my size or even smaller.”

“None taken,” Shrugging, he stood slowly. Ashley watched him with a cautious eye before leading him further into the house. He looked around, taking in the pictures on the walls- different places. The Gulf, a few shots of the French Quarter. But the one that drew him in was of a tomb, which held all sorts of x’s on it, candles surrounding it. He fell still, studying it.

“Dat’s de Voodoo Queen of New Orleans’ tomb,” Ashley murmured beside him. He was absolutely drawn in, she noticed with a smile. It was her favorite picture that she’d taken; black and white, the sky dark with hurricane bands. The tomb itself was beautiful, in a run-down sort of way. It was built of brick and cement, the door sealed for all eternity; flowers of red and white sat atop it, along with a single black candle. More flowers sat around it, in front of it, along with beads or coins or other small trinkets. 

“Voodoo Queen?” Sal asked, finally tearing his gaze away from the photograph to the brunette beside him. 

Ashley hummed and motioned for Sal to follow her, leading him into the last door on the left. “Marie Catherine Laveau! She was a free woman of color, born way back in de early eighteen hundreds. She had African, Native American, and Caucasian in her.” Smiling, she turned and plopped down onto her bed, a low sitting king sized monstrosity with a deep purple comforter and black sheets, and so many pillows. It was pushed back against the wall, and had no headboard; instead, there was a painting above it. Sal studied it for a moment, taking in the rich emeralds and ivories and deep blues. A girl stood in the center, her hair long and dark, her dress an off-white, contrasting beautifully with the swamp around her. The waters weren’t quite blue, not quite green; she stood calf-deep, the edges of her dress floating. The trees were heavy with Spanish moss, and the sky was dark, the moon a sliver in the sky.

It was beautiful; it took his breath away. 

Ashley smiled, looking over her shoulder at the painting. “Larry painted dat fo’ me.” Ashley broke his trance, causing him to jerk and shake his head.

“It’s beautiful,” he managed to get out, mind whirling. Larry could paint. Larry could paint really, _really good_. 

“Mhm!” Nodding, she slipped off of the bed and slipped past him to her dresser. “Anyways, voodoo ain’t what you t’ink it is. It does involve them dolls and whatnot, but it’s a combination of African religions dat were brough’ on over by African slaves, Christianity, and some Native American beliefs.” Ashley explained as she sorted through her drawer. “De front room o’ her cottage had alters that had candles and holy images and offerin’s, an’ she’d lead dese weekly meetin’s where all de participants would dress all in white, den chant an’ sing an’ leave an offerin’ of liquor and food for de spirits. She was a lovely lady- very beautiful. An’ she did so many good t’ings! Like nursin’ yellow fever patients back t’ health, postin’ bail for free women o’ color, and visitin’ condemned prisoners t’pray wit’ dem in dere final hours.

“No one really _knows_ if she was actually a powerful priestess with supernatural abilities or not, but she still one o’ the South’s biggest figures, y’know?” She finally pulled out an oversized shirt- grey, simple, soft- and a pair of black sweat pants. “Here we go!”

Sal took the offered clothes with relief, “Thank you.”

“Ya can use de en suite bat’room.” Ashley gestured to the door before making her leave. “Jus’ come on out after yer changed!” She closed the bedroom door behind her, giving him privacy.

A moment to breathe.

Standing in the center of her bedroom, he let himself relax, finally. Her room smelled nice, like roses and vanilla and something darker, a spice of some sort. She had more paintings, none as intense or big as the portrait above her bed. There were photographs scattered about her desk, more scenery; swamps, the sunset on the Gulf, abandoned houses. 

She was good, too.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he shuffled his way into the en suite, turning the light on and closing the door. The bathroom wasn’t that big, but it was nice; a large mirror, a nice sink, a claw foot tub. Candles sat all along the edges of the tub, their wax dripping down onto their holders. So many candles. He shook his head and turned to look at himself.

His hair wasn’t as much of a mess as he’d thought it would be, but it wasn’t neat anymore. Carefully unclipping his mask, he pulled the prosthetic away, studying his face. He needed to wash it, and his mask. Disinfect it. Maybe Ashley had something he could use?

As if on cue, her voice broke through, and the bathroom door was being opened before he could pull his mask back on.

Eyes wide, he stared at Ashley, waiting for her to scream. But she didn’t. She didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, her smile didn’t even waver. Instead, she slipped in and closed the door behind her. “Sorry for bargin’ in, but I needed to know if ya liked, gumbo, and how spicy ya liked it.” She rubbed the back of her neck before glancing down to his prosthetic.

“I… Yeah, it’s good. I just- do you have any isopropyl alcohol?” He managed to ask, watching as she thought for a moment before nodding and sliding behind him. She reached up onto the windowsill and pulled a bottle down. 

“Larry’s reheatin’ de gumbo up. Says y’all needa eat somethin’ before sleepin’.” She explained as she handed the bottle over. Her hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment before she slipped out, quietly closing the door behind her.

His hands shook, but he didn’t panic. He didn’t cry.

She had seen his face- and didn’t scream.

He couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips as he began to clean his prosthetic, before turning the tap on and washing his face.

He dressed quickly, glad to be wearing something comfortable and loose, baggy on his petit form. And he also stole a hair tie from Ashley, pulling his hair up into a messy bun. His bangs remained falling across his prosthetic, but the rest of his hair was blessedly controlled and off his neck.

He left the en suite and the bedroom, carrying the clothes he’d worn all day with him. Ashley, Larry, and Travis stood in the kitchen around the stove, talking quietly amongst themselves. He didn’t make a noise, simply stood just outside of the kitchen, listening.

“It wasn’t a deer. A deer wouldn’t git up after gettin’ hit, and then hit your truck.”

“… But you don’t know that.” Travis shook his head, brows furrowing. “It couldn’t have been-”

“He’s back.” Larry murmured, causing the other two to straighten up, the conversation dropped. 

Sal shuffled forward, acting as if he hadn’t heard anything. Which was easy, considering the prosthetic. 

“We got de beds fixed!” Ashley exclaimed, grinning as she pulled out four bowls from a cabinet- one of each of them. “I’m excited! I ain’t had a sleepover like dis since I was a kid!”

“I don’t think I’ve _ever_ had one,” Travis added, shrugging. He took his bowl and pulled open the microwave, where minute rice had been cooked. He dumped it into his bowl before grabbing a ladle and dipping it into the gumbo.

The gumbo smelled _wonderful_ , spicy and warm and Sal’s stomach growled. He was hungrier than he expected. Larry snorted at the sound.

“I know- Ash’s cookin’ is th’ best.” He made Sal’s bowl for him, then himself, and left Ashley to fix her own as he led Sal into the living room. 

And true to Ashley’s word, the couches had been pushed back to make room for two mattresses, the coffee table shoved against the wall. A few lamps were on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. Larry settled down onto one of the mattresses with a groan, leaning back against the couch that made a makeshift headboard. Sal sank down to his knees and shuffled forward before making himself comfortable beside him. Blankets had been fixed across the mattresses, soft and warm.

Safe. Sal felt safe. 

Travis and Ashley entered a few minutes later, Ashley draping herself across a couch while Travis fell onto the remaining mattress space. The four of them ate in silence, filling their stomachs with rice and shrimp and sausage. Larry was right- Ashley _was_ a good cook. Sal couldn’t help but yawn; the night’s events finally wearing down on him, the adrenaline and anxiety leaving his blood, leaving him to be sleepy.

Larry quietly took Sal’s empty bowl from him before collecting Travis’ and Ashley’s, slipping back into the kitchen to deposit them into the sink before returning, finding Sal almost asleep sitting up.

“C’mon, bluebird,” he whispered, nudging Sal over with a small smile. Ashley slipped down onto the mattresses behind Larry, grabbing pillows and tossing them out.  
Sal didn’t remember laying down, but he was- between Larry and Travis. Ashley laid behind Larry, her arms wrapped around his waist. Larry laid beside him on his back, arms beneath his pillow, blankets pulled up to his middle. Travis was on his other side, laying on his front, golden blond hair already a mess.  
Sal settled down, pulling his blanket up to his chin, and let sleep consume him.

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
6:45 a.m.

* * *

_Glass, shattering._

_Screams._

_Pleading, begging._

_Pain._

_Teeth, flashing._

_Growling._

_Ripping, shredding._

_White hot pain._

_Pain._

_**PAIN.**_

_“We know where you are, little one. We know, we know, we know, **WE KNOW** -”_

Sal jerked up, a hand on his throat. His breaths came in harsh gasps, and he struggled with his mask for a second before he could push it up and away from his mouth. Nightmare. It was another nightmare.

Shoulders slumping, he looked around the room- it was morning, early- Travis wasn’t in bed anymore, but up on one of the couches. Larry was still sound asleep, snoring softly; Ash had covered her head with a pillow, becoming nothing more than a lump beneath the blankets.

Carefully, Sal rose to his feet. Tea. He wanted tea. 

Quiet footsteps brought him into the kitchen. He looked around for a kettle, but found none; instead, he grabbed a small pot, filled it with hot water, and put it on the stove, waiting for it to come to a boil. The tea was already set out, and he grabbed a bag- green tea. Good. Mugs, where were her mugs? Turning slowly, he finally spotted them- hanging on a mug holder… Rack… Thing. A small noise of joy escaped him as he took one and brought it back to the stove, finding the water boiling. He carefully poured some of the water into his mug before pouring the rest out. Tea bag was dipped in next, and quietly, Sal slipped away, out to the back porch. 

Ashley had a small back yard, but it was big enough for a little garden. Her back porch wasn’t big, either- just enough for maybe three people to stand without crowing one another. It was covered, though, which was nice. He settled down on the top step and sat, holding the mug between his hands, letting the warmth seep into his bones. It was really early, he noted- the sun just turning the sky pink, the birds beginning to chirp their good mornings.

He pushed his mask up- all the way- and took a sip from his tea.

The night before had been insane. He’d gone to a party, almost got kissed, was hunted by something, watched Larry get a blowjob before pulling Travis off (oh, _god_ , he’d watched that and now he would never be unable to see it and holy _shit_ was that some new masturbation material he hadn’t needed), got ditched by his friends (ditched was a harsh word but-), and was driven back to Ashley’s by Travis only to have something hit them, or they hit it, and then it hit them back…

So deep in his thoughts he was, he didn’t hear the back door open. He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until Larry was sitting beside him, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in hand. Sal didn’t startle- no, Larry didn’t scare him anymore. 

“Yer up early,” Larry mumbled as he tapped on the bottom of the container, a cigarette falling free.

“So are you,” Sal countered, sipping from his tea. “Those are bad for you.”

“I mean, so is half the shit I eat, so like…” Larry shrugged as he slipped the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a slow drag off of it before removing it, blowing smoke up into the air.

“Good point.”

“Nightmares?”

“What?” Sal _did_ startle at that. He gripped the mug a little tighter and avoided looking at Larry.

“You got nightmares. You had one.” Larry replied as he took another drag, eyes closing. Sal fidgeted with his cup.

“… I get them often. I didn’t… I forgot to bring my medication with me. And they get worse when I don’t take them. They’re tied in with my anxiety- that’s what the doctor says.” Shrugging, he looked over to the brunette, and found himself stuck. 

He was beautiful- not in a conventional way, but in a subtle way. A harsh jawline, wonderful cheekbones, tanned skin, eyes that made him think of honey, and hair that was long and luscious and dark. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and slight frown lines that you wouldn’t notice unless you were this close and staring this intensely at him. And his lips- rosebud lips, a soft mixture of red and pink. Sal’s gaze drifted to the cigarette, watching as the cherry flared.

“I’m gonna shower, an’ then we’ll git ya home, alright?” Larry asked, voice still holding onto that rough edge of sleep; the sound made Sal’s knees weak.

Nodding, Sal watched as Larry put the cigarette out and rose slowly; from his angle, he could see a scar he hadn’t noticed before. It curved around Larry’s ribs, curling onto his back. 

He didn’t say anything as Larry left him to drink his tea alone.

“I’m so fucked,” Sal whispered into the quiet morning air.

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
7:26 a.m.

* * *

“Shit.” Travis stated simply, staring at the back of his truck. The paint had been scratched, the tailgate dented so much that the sides of it curled _in_.

Larry rubbed the back of his neck.

Ashley took picture after picture of the damage.

Sal just wanted to go home.

“Sal, can ya go grab my keys? Deys in my bedroom on my nightstand!” Ashley called, and the trio watched as Sal drifted back inside.

“We’re going to talk to Maple. Maybe Robert knows somethin’.” Travis said, shaking his head. “I know what I saw. It was human. But it wasn’t right. Too pale, too thin.”

“Like a body that’d been drained o’ blood?” Larry asked, watching as Travis nodded. “Well, double shit.”

“D’ya t’ink it’s R-”

The sound of the front door opening and closing had their conversation coming to an end. Sal was shuffling back, his hair still damp from his shower. 

He was wearing one of Larry’s hoodies. Larry liked the way it hung off of him, swallowing him.

“Good luck at th’ body shop,” he called in lieu of a goodbye, walking up to Sal and looping an arm around his shoulders. “D’ya want breakfast befo’ you go home?”

Behind them, Ashley and Travis climbed into Travis’ truck.

Sal’s stomach answered for him.

“I’ll take dat as a yes.”

“Please.”

Larry nodded and slipped into the driver’s seat, Sal climbing into the other side. They waited for Travis to back out, and followed suit; Travis went left, they went right. Larry fiddled with the radio before he settled on a rock station, letting the sounds of Aerosmith fill the cab. Sal didn’t mind; he liked all types of music, really. He let his head rest against the window, eyes closing.

Apparently, he’d fallen asleep again, because the sound of the truck door closing had him jumping. Looking around, he realized they’d stopped at a bakery- small, but homey. And Larry had a bag that he was holding out to him, a drink setting on the dash, and another in his hands.

“Beignets, green tea- that’s what you like, right?- and a black coffee for me.” He explained with a small smile. “I thought you’d want somethin’ light but fillin’, and Beignets do dat exact thing.” Sal took the offered bag and cup, glad to have warmth. Despite it being the deep south, the early mornings were cool. Or maybe he was just chilled. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, opening the bag and staring at the fluffy, powdered sugar covered squares. “… I’ve never had one before.”

“No shit?” Larry asked, reaching over to snag one out. “They’s really messy, so be careful.” He had put a napkin across his lap, Sal noted.

He copied him, raised his mask up, took a beignet for himself, and tasted pure bliss. 

“Holy _shit_.” He exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise. “That’s… Not at all what I was expecting.”

“You were expectin’ a doughnut, right?” Larry asked, watching as Sal nodded. His lips were covered in powdered sugar, but there was a smile curling at the edges. “They’re good, right?”

“Delicious. Holy Mother of God.” 

Larry snorted and continued to eat and sip his coffee while Sal rattled on about how good the beignets were. His mind wandered as he considered the night’s events. It was troubling, to think that Red could be back. They’d taken care of him four years ago, but apparently, they didn’t take _enough_ care of him. Terrance hadn’t mentioned anything about him. Then again, Terrance wouldn’t mention _anything_ to him unless he specifically asked for it. 

And Sal… Sal, the boy with hair that reminded him of the sky, with a face no painting could ever capture, with a heart that beat so strongly. With a past that Larry didn’t yet know. Whose blood smelled old and bitter and _wrong_ in many ways. Who was an enigma.

Who he had almost kissed last night. 

A glance at the subject of his thoughts, seeing that he’d cleared away most of the beignets, had him smiling. “Time t’ git on home,” he decided, watching as Sal covered a yawn and nodded.

He didn’t pull his mask back down.

Larry liked that. 

The drive back to Addison Apartments didn’t take too long; they were fairly close to the French Quarter, and traffic was light this early on a Saturday morning. No one wanted to be out this early, unless they were going to the Farmer’s Market.

The building came into view, and with it, an odd sense of foreboding. A glance to his right had his suspicions confirmed as Sal straightened up, brow furrowing. Something wasn’t right- but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He pulled around back and parked; Travis would bring Ash by later to get her truck. He left the key in the glovebox and climbed out, Sal following suit, grabbing the grocery bag full of last night’s clothing.

“I’ll walk ya up,” Larry decided, hands stuffed into his pockets. 

Sal nodded in thanks and led the way, pausing halfway up the stairs. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end; he got a lump in his throat suddenly. Anxiety crashed over him like a wave. “Something’s not right.” He whispered, staring ahead.

No, Larry agreed silently, something wasn’t right. Quietly, he stepped ahead of Sal, studying the apartments. Jaw clenching, he shook his head, and nearly jumped off of the stairs when a door suddenly opened. Todd’s mother.

Todd’s _fucking_ mother, across the little courtyard, waving and smiling. “God fuckin’ damn it,” he cursed, shaking his head.

Sal tried to cover his laughter. And failed. “I think we’re all just jumpy from last night… and lack of sleep.” He mumbled, moving past Larry and forward, towards his apartment. Keys already in hand, he unlocked the door as quietly as he could, Larry following after. The pair peeked inside: silence. The television was off, and his dad wasn’t passed out in the chair. Good. He could hear the faint sound of snoring coming from his father’s room.

All was clear.

Turning, he found himself face-to-chest with the brunette. Craning his head up, he studied Larry’s face for a moment. “Thanks for… Everything. Taking me home, and then…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

But Larry knew what to say. Knew what to do, too. He leaned down, watching as Sal froze. Carefully, he pushed the mask up, up, up until his entire face was revealed. “You are very welcome, Sal Fisher.” He murmured before leaning forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “Go on now, git some rest, baby blue.” He whispered before back tracking, closing the door.

Sal stood, staring at the front door for a solid minute before a squeaking sound escaped him. Eyes wide, he pressed a hand to his lips, where they tingled from that kiss. Larry had _kissed_ him. Not a proper kiss, but it still counted. And called him a new name. Not bluebird. Baby blue.

Oh, holy _shit_ , he was so _fucked_.


	9. Once Upon a Dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's do the time warp!  
> Larry has a small existential crisis.  
> French lullabies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like making the chapter summaries cryptic if you can't tell.  
> This chapter was difficult to write tbh. But I got it done!  
> Warning: there is gore about halfway through the chapter. It isn't that graphic (I originally had it far more graphic than this final draft is). I hope this chapter sheds some light and makes you question some things.   
> The song at the end is the French version of a song from Sleeping Beauty. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos on this! It means so much to me that you all are liking this so much!! <3

_“There is a house in New Orleans,_  
_They call the Rising Sun…”_  
- _House of the Rising Sun_ , The Animals

* * *

June 13th, 1889

* * *

The woman, not much older than a girl, barely fully grown, stood before the mirror, the women behind her clucking and tutting, fixing her dress. The lace clung to her throat, around her collar bones and shoulders, down her arms. The gown was beautiful; ivory and big, the skirts full and trailing behind her. The bodice was fitted, showing off the petite waist, accented with a lilac satin sash. Ash blonde hair had been meticulously curled and pinned; kohl had been carefully applied around light brown hues. 

A wedding. An arranged marriage.

“You look awfully lovely,” a voice spoke from the door, causing the girl to turn her head. She’d turn the rest of her body, but she didn’t want to risk angering the women any more than she already had.

“So do you,” she replied, voice soft, melodic, like birdsong on a summer breeze; the epitome of a southern belle. The boy did look handsome, dressed in his best clothes; a white button down meant for church, deep brown trousers, and black suspenders. It brought out the rich tan he’d gotten from working the fields. He’d gotten his hands on a lilac bowtie; she didn’t want to know how much that had cost him.

Robert stepped into the room, ignoring the stares of the women, his light brown hair combed back from his face. He was quite the sight; she had no doubt he’d be the next one to get hitched. 

She’d rather it be him getting nitpicked over rather than herself.

“You also look awfully glum for your weddin’ day, Maple.” He added, head tilting to the side. “What’s goin’ on in that head o’ yours, swan?”

“I’m just nervous, ‘s all.” She replied, flashing a small smile. “After all, we’ll be movin’ to N’awlins in a week, to his plantation.”

“And we get to finally get outta Mis’sippi.” 

The pair shared a nervously excited smile. 

“There! Where’s the veil?” 

“Here!”

Maple’s vision was suddenly covered by white lace before the veil was brought back. She blinked, taking in the sight of herself. A bride. She was a bride. She was to marry Red D. L'œil soon. Her family- or, what was left after the Yellow Fever had swept across Mississippi- was gathered; some of his had managed to attend, coming from New Orleans. The rest were back in France. 

She was getting married. 

She was terrified.

* * *

He stood tall and imposing, back ramrod straight. He was handsome, truthfully; a full, black mustache, black hair that fell to his shoulders in gentle waves, skin that was a pleasant mixture of ivory and tan from being in the sun, and eyes that were such a mysterious shade of brown, bordering on red. 

He was over a head taller than she was. His wedding suit was black, but he had lilacs in his breast pocket, along with a lilac pocket square. His hands were clasped in front of him, gloved. Handsome.

Maple couldn’t breathe. 

The wedding wasn’t in a church; it was outside, in the field beside her family’s house. Chairs had been carried out, and the preacher stood at the end of the isle. The isle itself was a stretch of white fabric, weighed down by the chairs on the inside end of the rows. She stepped slowly, carefully; her hands were shaking, but she clutched the bouquet; white roses and hydrangeas made it complete. 

She had no bridesmaids; he had no groomsmen. It was just them in the front, all the attention solely focused on them. 

The preacher began to talk, but she couldn’t listen. No, her attention was trained on keeping her breathing even. And then, her veil was being lifted, and Red came into full view. He was just as handsome as he was the first time she’d seen him over a year ago. Long, dark eyelashes, reddish brown irises, smooth skin. No, not handsome- beautiful. 

“I do.” He spoke softly.

“I do.” She replied.

She didn’t hear the preacher say that they could kiss, but he was leaning down, his large hand cupping her cheek ever-so delicately. And then, they were kissing. It certainly wasn’t the first kiss they had shared, but it was, by far, the best. She felt light, her head swimming, her heart beating so fast, too fast.

She couldn’t help but grin as they parted. 

Evening fell, and with it came the celebration. There were small gifts; honey from her aunt, fresh jarred jams from her cousin. His family did not stay for the celebration. She spent much of it laughing and thanking, a small portion of it dancing. And all the while, Red stayed by her side, his hand resting on her knee over her dress. 

“You will love New Orleans,” he murmured in her ear as they walked through the field, hand in hand. “It is a lovely city; you can see the water from the French Quarter.”

“I’ve never been that far south,” she replied, turning to gaze up at him. 

“You’re gonna love it.”

* * *

The following week was a blur. Packing up her clothing, the few pieces of furniture she wanted to take, having them taken by train to New Orleans. Getting away from the Bourbon Democrats would be a breath of fresh air; seeing everything that New Orleans held for her would be a new life. This marriage was a new life.

Robert would be coming with them, thankfully; there was work to be done on Red’s plantation that he could help out with. None of Red’s help were indentured- they were all free, or as free as they could get. She liked that about Red.

* * *

September 30th, 1889

The months had passed quickly. Maple settled into her new home with relative ease; she’d met the maid, Lisa, and her son, Larry. The butler, Neil- he was a sweet heart and made amazing gumbo. Robert settled in well, finding his place among the workers of the plantation easily. She would wake up to laughter from Robert and a few of the men, would sit on the porch and listened as they sang songs, their music beautiful. 

And then, September came. Red’s sister sent notice that she would be visiting in October, when the weather turned nice and the Gulf calmed down. She arrived on the 30th of September from France. 

Maple had never seen someone so beautiful.

Her hair was light blonde, falling to her waste in gentle waves. She had eyes of the lightest blue- she took after their mother, apparently. Her skin wasn’t tanned like Red’s, but rather, a smooth ivory, her lips painted such a deep shade of red, Maple done mistook it for blood at first! And her dresses, oh, Maple had swooned at them; they buttoned up to her neck, sat tight around the waist, and flared out dramatically in a full skirt. Rich colors- reds, purples, blues, greens- and soft lace work accompanied them.

Her name was Diane; she spoke near perfect English, and melodic French.

* * *

October 13th, 1889

* * *

The field was on fire. There were so many screams; servants ran to the river behind the house, dragging buckets behind them, bringing it back up to wet down the ground surrounding the house. Red had taken Maple and Diane out onto the river, keeping them in a boat, watching as the field burnt to a crisp. They didn’t know how it had started, only heard the scream of “ _Fire!_ ” that woke the household up.

She didn’t know where Robert was.

Red wouldn’t let her out of the boat to get to him. 

She sat and sobbed, hands pressed to her lips. Diane had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close, murmuring to her in delicate French, trying to calm her.

They stayed in that boat until sunrise, when the flames were finally extinguished. The house was never touched. 

Lisa and Larry had saved as much of the land that they could. 

It was after that incident that things changed.

They lost three workers; Red sent their families their pension and belongings. Diane extended her stay for another month, just to help settle things. A few had burns; Larry, the poor boy, ended up with a wicked burn on his left thigh. Maple tended to the burn, keeping it clean and making sure nothing caused any sort of infection or inflammation.  
“That wasn’t no accidental fire,” he’d whispered to her one evening as she changed out his bandages. Her hands stilled, heart skipping a beat as she looked up, taking in the severity of his gaze. His jaw clenched, his brows furrowed. “We went an’ looked- found torches an’ rags that didn’t burn.”

“Have you told Red?”

“No.” A shake of the head. “Naw, ‘cause we…”

Larry didn’t finish his sentence. Maple had the cold feeling that she knew where he had been going with it. She finished bandaging his leg and rose, ready to leave, when his hand shot out, gripping hers tightly. She startled, looking down at the brunette.

“Be careful, Miss Maple. Me and my momma done worked for Red for a few years- there’s somethin’ off ‘bout him. Gets worse every day.”

Maple didn’t respond.

Couldn’t.

She left, and began to ponder just what he meant by that cryptic warning.

* * *

December 10th, 1889

* * *

Red had changed. He no longer took dinner with her, but in his study. She was left to eat with Robert, or Larry and Lisa if they wished. He no longer joined her at night. She had asked what the matter was, but he did not give her a true answer. Business, he replied. Business.

She didn’t believe that for a second.

Diane was still here. She would be leaving within the next day. She joined Red for dinner in his study. Maple wasn’t allowed in. 

Robert found her sitting in the hall, staring at the doors. He sat beside her.

* * *

January 1st, 1891

* * *

“Kind of you to finally join me,” Maple commented, reaching for a biscuit. She took hold of a knife, slicing through a brick of butter.

“I apologize for being so busy, my love.” Red replied, watching her movements carefully.

Her hand slipped.

A hiss escaped her. 

It happened so quickly.

Maple found herself pinned to the table, the wind knocked from her lungs. She gasped, eyes wide as she stared up at Red. She didn’t know what triggered it- maybe it was the perfume she wore, or the blood that welled up on her finger after she’d sliced it with the knife on accident. The latter seemed more likely.

She reacted on instinct, striking out; her nails cut through lightly tanned skin.

Red jerked back, eyes wide, lips curled back to reveal teeth. Teeth, Maple had noted, that were far too sharp for a human.

She screamed. Ran.

He caught her.

She screamed for Robert, for Lisa, for anyone.

No one came. He’d sent everyone that wasn’t necessary away.

All except for Neil. Neil, sweet, kind, gentle Neil. Who came running, a knife in hand. But it was no use; Red’s teeth had already met her neck, sinking deep. It had frozen Neil. The poor man looked ready to cry- or maybe he did cry. She couldn’t remember. But he did drop the knife, which had Red pulling free from Maple’s neck, turning.

She tried to move, to scream. Tried to get him to _run_. But she couldn’t make a sound. Her lips moved, but she was too weak. She could only lay there and watch as Red advanced on Neil, as he pinned him to the wall, as Neil yelled, screamed bloody murder. The pain was unbearable, she knew that, because her own body was tensing, convulsing. Her lungs burned, her heart beat so fast it felt like it was going to burst from her chest. Was she dying?

She got her answer the next morning.

Red had spent the night sitting by her side, waiting. And when she awoke, he explained it to her. What he was. What he’d done. And she had screamed at him. Screamed, threw gilded candle bras at him, slapped him. Tore the room apart before turning on him, ready to tear him apart as well.

He left after that. He didn’t return, not for an entire month.

And that month, she and Neil struggled. They fed on rats, on pigs, but nothing was enough. Not until Red returned to see the two of them with a rabbit between them. He’d curled his lip at them, brought them inside after calling them _animals_. Sat them down and explained what was happening. Their bodies had ceased to age- but was still breaking down. They still needed nutrition from human food; vegetables, primarily. Blood was nowhere near enough, no matter how much they had craved for it. 

Neil cursed him, turned the table over in his anger. 

Maple cried. She cried, and cried, and screamed. 

Red let them. He didn’t apologize; he said they should thank him, for now they would never die.

Maple didn’t want that.

She tried. And tried. And tried.

Nothing worked.

* * *

April 30th, 1890

* * *

She had been walking along the river’s bank, enjoying the spring air, when she found him. He was laying on the edge of the river, his feet in the water, his hand clutching her chest. At first, she’d thought he’d had a heart attack.

No, she realized as she drew closer. It was no heart attack. Two puncture wounds in his neck gave her what she needed to know. At first, she feared it was Neil who had done it. But no, she’d been with Neil since daybreak, making apple pies and peach cobblers. That left Red, who had left four hours earlier.

She collapsed, disregarding the mud that stained her dress. “Robert? Robert!” She yelled, shaking him. He wasn’t breathing. Why wasn’t he breathing?! Tears spilled down her cheeks as she leaned over him, hands on his cheeks. 

And then, his eyes opened with a gasp.

She broke then, sobbing into his chest as he gasped down air he no longer truly needed. “Oh, Robert, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She’d sobbed before calming and explaining what had happened.

Listened to Robert explain how it had happened.

Red had taken him down, claiming he’d found a dead deer on their bank. Had tackled him from behind, pinned him, and then came the pain. 

Anger filled her veins.

“I’m goin’ t’kill that man.” She decided, then and there. “I’m gonna kill him for what he’s done to us.”

* * *

June 14th, 1890

* * *

Red was home. He was expecting a nice dinner. He’d been away on a riverboat, gambling, making business connections. He’d been gone for well over a week. 

She put on her nicest dress; a lilac and white lace that Diane had sent for her from France. She did her hair up all nicely, careful to cover the scars upon her neck with a piece of lavender ribbon.

Neil cooked a wonderful dinner; shrimp and Andouille sausage gumbo. One of Red’s favorite meals. It was supposed to just be herself and Red. A private dinner.

Red had invited Larry and Lisa.

That hadn’t been part of the plan. 

She sat, eating and making polite conversation. Larry was a sweet boy of twenty, with long brown hair and kind brown eyes, a large nose, and a gap between his top two front teeth. But he was kind and spoke with manners. His mother was sweet, her voice soft; she had been widowed young. 

She wished Red hadn’t invited them. 

She wished she didn’t have to do this.

She gripped the knife beneath the table tight enough that her hand shook.

“Drop the knife, darling.” Red spoke suddenly, as the doors closed tight. Larry and Lisa both jumped, Larry grabbing his mother and pulling her back.  
Maple stared Red down- the man she had married, who she’d taken to bed, who had kissed her goodnight and good morning. Who was still so handsome, with his shoulder length black hair and red brown eyes and black mustache. 

“I hate you.” She stated, voice calm. Robert was somewhere. Robert, who she had found two months ago, shaking and crying, with two puncture holes in his neck. Robert, her sweet, sweet little brother. 

She hated this man. 

“And what do you plan on doing, dearest?” He asked, head tilting to the side. “What can you do?” The sound of screams outside had her head jerking around, hands gripping the edge of the table as she watched the doors slam shut. Red had moved across the room, and Larry was making a horrible sound that was a mixture of a scream and a gurgle. His eyes were wide as he gripped Red’s wrist, confusion painted across his young, innocent face. Maple’s head jerked back around, eyes wide as she realized what had happened, the sounds of screams from outside falling into the background. 

She screamed, a sound full of anger and hatred. A banshee’s scream, louder than those outside of the home.

Lisa screamed; a piercing, horrible sound full of anguish and anger and horror that made chills dance across Maple’s skin.

Larry’s shirt was blooming with blood; the knife had buried beneath his ribs, and was dragged back, into his back. Larry was clinging to Red, staring up at him with wide, tearful brown eyes, confusion painted across his features. 

Maple launched herself across the table, screaming bloody murder. 

Red moved, pulling the knife free of Larry, letting the boy crumple to the floor, and drove the knife into Lisa’s sternum.

Maple stumbled over her skirts, fell forward, and drove the knife deep, finding purchase in his shoulder. She continued to fall, gravity pulling her down; she dragged the knife with her, listening to Red yell in pain. Down, down, down she went, carving to the bone from shoulder to waist, blood blooming across his perfect, white shirt, covering her hand, her arm, spilling onto the floor.

It smelled wrong. Bitter. Old. Like a crypt had been opened. It had her stomach lurching. 

She landed at his feet; he turned, growling, throwing out a kick that connected with her ribs. She coughed, gasping, curling on herself as she tried to keep her breath. He took one look around. “Pathetic,” he sneered, shaking his head as he made his way to the doors, throwing them open.

The sound of chaos filled the room, coming from the back of the house. The servants? She wasn’t sure. 

The doors were open. They had never been locked. Just shut.

She managed to crawl over to Larry. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m so very sorry, dear boy.” He was hiccupping, choking on his own blood. A trail began to leak from his lips. 

His blood was staining her skirts. 

His eyes were wide as he stared up at her. “It hurts,” he whispered, lip trembling. “Hurts, Miss Maple. Hurts.”

“Maple?!” Neil called from the kitchen, before he burst in. One look, and he was running across the room, falling to his knees before Lisa. “Oh, lord. Lord, no. No, no.” He whispered, pressing a hand to her wound as if to staunch the bleeding. It didn’t help, blood continuing to pulse out between his fingers.  
Maple looked over to Neil, an understanding dancing between the two. 

“I’m so sorry for what I am about to do,” Maple whispered, pressing her forehead against Larry’s. She could hear Neil talking to Lisa, explaining the best he could, head the soft ‘please, save us,’. She closed her eyes, listening to Larry sob and choke on his own blood.

She lowered her head to his neck.

Her teeth slid down. Pierced the delicate flesh of his neck.

Blood filled her mouth.

He gasped; jerked; clung to her. 

Lisa made a similar noise.

She drank, and drank, until Larry was limp and twitching.

Neil helped her carry them up to her bedroom, put them in her bed, and waited. Counted down the hours until sunrise. And then they waited longer, taking shifts in watching over them. Robert came, and sat while Maple and Neil went out on horses and checked over the property, searching for Red. He was gone; his things, packed and disappeared.

The servants had run; one of Red’s “friends” had come. The servants had done a ritual to cleanse the property, to rid it of the “demons”, before they left. 

When the sun set, they rose. Larry jerked up, gasping, a hand clutching his chest. His wound had been sewed closed by Robert in the hours it took for them to wake. He felt his side, then looked to Maple.

And began to cry. 

Lisa awoke much more gently, understanding crossing her features as she laid in the bed.

Maple held Larry in her arms as he clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder. She brushed his hair back and sung softly to him as Neil helped Lisa up.

* * *

She took over the plantation- or, that is, what was left of it. All the servants had left aside from Neil, Lisa, and Larry. They stayed there, tending to the crops, and as the years passed, they took careful measures to change with them. They took care of the property, took on false names, claimed they were relatives of the original owners, Red and Maple. 

Changed their appearances when possible; cutting hair or using dyes. Hiding for years when necessary, coming back and playing it off as an odd coincidence.

* * *

In 1950, Maple had the house torn down and rebuilt. Red hadn’t taken anything from their trust fund, and she had more than enough saved up. The house was rebuilt as a mirror image of the original- just updated. She sold off some of the property, and then some more, until the area she lived in became known as the Garden District.

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
4:15 p.m.

* * *

Larry sat beside Maple, watching as Travis and Ashley worked to fix the dent in his tailgate while Robert guided them.

“I’m gonna tell you something,” she began, drawing his attention towards her, “that I am ain’t sure of myself yet, but I have a hunch.” 

“You got my attention,” he murmured, taking a long sip from his black coffee. 

“Sal reminds me of someone from my past.” Maple reached back, grabbing hold of an old photo album. “Before I became… this.”

“Before Red?”

“No.”

“Before June.”

“Yes.”

Larry drew a hand through his hair, set his coffee aside, and turned, looking at the photograph she’d flipped to.

It was old, sepia toned, done with a traditional camera. It was of Red- just the sight of him had his stomach curling- Maple, when her hair was much longer, and a woman. She had a pleasant smile, long light hair, and kind eyes.

A chill danced across Larry as he looked closer. He knew those eyes. Had looked into them that morning after a kiss. Had been drawn in to them since he’d first met their owners.

“I believe that Diane L'œil is Diane Fisher, Sal’s mother.”

Larry rose, made his way to the trash can, and vomited. 

“You think what now?” Robert asked as he jumped down from the bed of the truck. “Diane? You think she somehow had a child? Is that even possible?” He ran a hand over his face, up into his red and black mohawk. 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, grimacing at the sound of Larry’s dry heaving. “But his blood smells similar to what Red’s did, when I…” Stabbed him. Tried to kill him. “As to whether or not it is possible to have a child, I’m not sure.”

“I mean…” Ashley began, tapping the edge of a pair of pliers gently against her thigh. “Considerin’ we’s still sorta _alive_ , so, wouldn’t we be able t’make a baby?”

Larry stood, his face paling dramatically. 

Ashley’s face paled similarly. 

“Don’t go freakin’ out, now,” Maple shook her head, tucking her legs beneath her. “Sal’s pa’s human, right?”

“Human as human can get,” Larry nodded, brows furrowing. “D’ya think it takes, like, a human guy? Or just… A human? In general?”

That thought had the group falling into silence, thinking it over. “It’d make sense,” Travis finally spoke, shrugging. “From what I understand, we’re still alive in some way, so…”

“… I don’t think it’d be two of our kind.” Maple shook her head. “I think it would take a human and one of us. As for what Sal is…” She trailed off. 

“Good question.” Larry finished for her, pulling his hair up into a messy bun. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im. I needa stay close to AA anyways.”

“Somethin’ happenin’?” Maple stood, stretching her arms up over her head. Her shirt rose up, revealing smooth ivory skin. 

Larry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sal came an’ got me a few days back, sayin’ that he thought someone was in his apartment. No one was there- but I could feel somethin’ there. Somethin’s lingerin’ in the Apartments. And Terrance ain’t talkin’.”

“Terrance wouldn’t talk.”

“Terrance a lil’ bitch.”

“ _Ashley_.”

Shaking his head, Larry made his way to the front of the garage. “I know there’s somethin’ off ‘bout Sal. Y’all ain’t seen his face- somethin’ happened when he was young. Bad accident that…” He trailed off, eyes widening as he froze in place. “The same accident that took his mother when he was six years old.”

Silence spread through the garage, the sound of cicadas screaming filling the void until it was all Larry could hear. An accident that took his mother’s life. The same that caused his face to become mutilated. The scars that resembled claw marks. Deep gouges. Tip of his nose missing. Part of his lips mangled. 

“Oh, holy shit.” Travis whispered.

Maple was already walking past Larry towards her car. “Keep an eye on Sal, Lar. Ash, keep yo’ doors locked at night.” She opened the driver’s side door and paused, looking over the group.

“Where’re ya goin’?”

She flashed a dark smile. “Gonna go converse wit’ some bones.” She climbed in, started her car, and backed up enough to turn around in the wide gravel drive before dust was all that they could see. 

Ashley set the pliers down. “… Does she mean actual bones, or…?”

“Ash, get back to fixing my truck.”

“But does she?!”

Larry stared at the evening sky, his jaw clenched. 

_‘Sal probably doesn’t even know what his mother was.’_

* * *

September 4th, 1991  
11:45 p.m.

* * *

_The boy was sound asleep, the sound of an electric fan humming softly on his desk. His room had been fixed up; posters of bands on the walls. So many different bands- metal, rock, ska singers. A stack of CDs and old records sat, meticulously stacked and ordered._

_His clothes were all put away in his drawers and his closet._

_The woman’s head tilted as she studied his blue hair; dyed. His hair was naturally blond, a shade reminiscent of her own. A smile curled her lips as she sat on the edge of his bed. She dared not touch him._

_Instead, she began to sing softly, a lullaby from a movie she’d seen long ago- one she’d sung to him once upon a dream._

_**“Mon amour, je t'ai vu au beau milieu d'un rêve. Mon amour, un aussi doux rêve est un présage d'amour. Refusons tous deux que nos lendemains soient mornes et gris. Nous attendrons l'heure de notre bonheur, toi ma destinée, je saurai t'aimer, j'en ai rêvé.”**_

Sal jerked awake, heart hammering in his chest as he looked around the room. His false eye was sitting on his bedside table in a glass of water and cleansing solution. He wasn’t alone. He couldn’t have been, could he? Or had the dream been that realistic? He wasn’t sure, as he looked to the alarm clock across the room.

12:12 a.m.

Shaking his head, he settled back down on the bed, forcing his body to relax. He was still high strung- that was all. Still stressed from the night before. 

Yet, the sound of a woman’s voice that was so familiar yet unfamiliar simultaneously clung to the edges of his mind. French. She had been singing in French.

Sleep tugged him back into unconsciousness, his breaths evening out. 

He didn’t see the figure standing by the door. Couldn’t. 

For they had been on his blind side.


	10. Pick Their Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Party invitations are extended  
> Sal struggles with the French language and finds a new friend.  
> Larry, Ashley, and Travis go to a bar.  
> Travis makes a new friend (and quickly ruins that friendship).  
> Larry almost ruins his motorcycle.  
> Ashley gets an uninvited guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew it's been a few days. So uh, this chapter is a monster (14 pages), and it took me a while to write because I'm picky and I want things to make sense. TRIGGER WARNING because there is BLOOD and GORE in this chapter! It happens literally right after the smut. It's... Blood kink to the max, basically. You have been warned.   
> Also hey, time skips. 
> 
> ALSO- My classes started back up today, so for the next... 8-ish weeks, my writing time will be cut in half, so my uploads will drop to once a week, most likely. Sorry, folks. College likes to do that. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and leaving kudos, and commenting! It makes my day to see what y'all think!   
> Also (I don't think this has happened but I'm also blind) if anyone makes any fanart or cosplays or anything of the such for this fic, please, drop me a link! I'd love to see it!

_“Lousy lovers pick their prey,_  
 _But they never cry out loud, cry out…”_  
- _Gold Dust Woman_ , Fleetwood Mac

* * *

October 16th, 1991  
12:30 p.m.

* * *

“Halloween party?” Sal asked, brow raising. The last time he’d gone to a party had ended with him being taken home by Travis, hitting _something_ , and staying over at Ashley’s. And then, being driven home by Larry. And kissed. By Larry.

That had been a month ago. 

He’d only told Todd and Chug about being driven home by Larry.

He didn’t tell them about what he’d witnessed at the party. What had happened on the drive from the party. 

“Yeah!” Chug grinned, leaning against the side of the vending machine outside of the cafeteria. “And it ain’t gonna be out in de boondocks dis time!”

“It’s at Maple’s house.” Todd explained as he opened up the bottle of water he’d bought. “She throws one every year. It’s sort of like a tradition; she and her brother go all out.”

“Brother?” He hadn’t known that Maple had a brother. Then again, there wasn’t a lot that he knew. “When?”

“His name’s Robert. He’s a total punk. You’ll like him.”

“Next weekend.”

Sal nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not on Halloween itself?” 

“Naw, since it’s on a weekend dis year, she’ll have it de night before.” Chug explained with a shrug. 

“… Who’s all invited?” Sal asked after a moment, wedged between Chug and Todd as the trio made their way down the hall. The bell would be ringing soon. 

Todd hummed, dumping the rest of the bag of peanuts into his mouth. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yup.”

“What do you _mean_ , everyone?”

“He _means_ anyone dat gets invited can come.” Chug explained, turning to walk backwards. “Like you can. And anyone in de school dat hears ‘bout it can come- as long as dey can figure out how t’get out dere.”

“So, she makes it a challenge.”

“Mhm.”

Todd elbowed Sal in the ribs with a smile, “Larry’ll be there. So will Ash, and Travis.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. You should have seen their costumes last year. They were _insane_. Larry was a vampire- but a vampire _bride_.”

Sal doubled over in laughter at the image that popped into his head.

* * *

October 16th, 1991  
4:15 p.m.

* * *

“Vampire bride?” Sal asked as he settled down onto the edge of Larry’s bed, making the artist pause mid-stroke. 

Larry rose a brow, peeking out from around the canvas. “Pardon?”

“Last year, Halloween. Todd said you went as a vampire bride?”

Larry’s face split into a grin as he nodded. “Oh, man, Sally Face, ya should’ve seen it! Maple did my hair up all nice and pretty like an’ Ash did my makeup.” He shook his head and chuckled at the memory. So many compliments he’d gotten that night.

“What’re you gonna do this year?” Sal asked, scooting back to sit cross-legged, his French textbook balanced on his lap. The language was a lot easier to learn than he’d thought. Or maybe it was because he heard it spoken so much out of class these days. 

Humming, Larry leaned back, studying the canvas. It was taking shape, slowly; hurricane bands over St. Louis Cemetery no. 1. “You’ll have t’come to Maple’s party an’ see fer yerself.” He replied with a smirk.

Sal pouted, but turned his attention towards his books.

He’d been spending more time with Larry over the last month, making his way down to his odd outward apartment when he didn’t want to be alone, or when Todd or Chug weren’t available. Plus, Larry could help him with French. 

Speaking of-

“Question.”

“Answer.”

“How d’you say this?” Sal held his book out for Larry to look at. The brunette slid from his stool and leaned over, studying the page. 

“Do you know what it translates to?” He asked, crouching down so that he had to look up at Sal.

Oh, no. Sal cleared his throat and willed the heat in his cheeks to calm down. “It means ‘let the good times roll’, right? Something you all say during Mardi Gras.”

Larry smiled and nodded, his gaze lingering on Sal’s prosthetic face before putting his finger on the first word. “This isn’t a real French phrase, ya know? It’s Cajun French. Each word’s a literal translation o’ th’ English word.” Shifting his stance, he reached up, tapping Sal’s mask. “I need ya t’lift it up so I can make sure you’re sayin’ th’ words right.”

Sal froze for a moment before shaking hands reached up, unclipping the second strap. It was enough to push the mask up to reveal his mouth- gnarled lips and all skin graft jaw and all. 

Larry hummed, smirking as he took in the slight flush creeping up Sal’s throat. “The first word you should already know. Laissez. Less-say.” 

“Lessay.”

“Mn, no. More nasally- from the back of your throat.” Larry explained, head tilting to the side. “Less-say.”

“… Less-say.”

“Better. You know Les. Bons, you say like bonbon. The ‘o’ is a bit drawn out, but ain’t much.”

“So, Less-say le boon?” Sal attempted, the words feeling so odd on his tongue. 

“Softer ‘n’ on bon.”

“Less-say le boo…n?” He softened the n, brows furrowing. He couldn’t see Larry’s face. That was the problem. He needed to see his lips, see how to form the words. Sighing in annoyance, he reached up and tugged the mask off. 

Larry blinked, taking in the sudden full face, but didn’t react in any other way. “You were closer, that time. Temps ain’t pronounced how it’s spelled at all.” He tapped the book, making Sal look down. “It ain’t pronounced like Temperature. Temps is more…” He paused, thinking on how to explain without making it confusion. “Think ‘top’, but with an ‘m’. So ‘tomp’, but the ‘p’ is soft, and the ‘o’ is drawn out like in ‘bon’.”

“... Why the fuck does this have to be so confusing?” Sal mumbled before shaking his head. “Te-o.. Teomps?”

A bark of laughter escaped Larry as he rose up, shaking his head. “Naw, baby blue, that ain’t it.” He settled down beside him instead, a hand placed carefully behind Sal on the bed, holding him up as he leaned in, a finger on the word. “T-ooh-mp.” He sounded out slowly, watching as Sal watched his lips.

Ah. Lip reading. That’s what Sal needed. 

“Temps.” He finally spoke, slowly, carefully. And Larry grinned. “Laissez les bon temps… R… ruler?”

“Close!” Larry perked up, grinning. “Close. Don’t pronounce the ‘r’- or, at least, only the end of it. Oo. Ley. Rouler.” Sal sounded it out softly, his brow pinched above mismatched eyes. This close, Larry could see the details of the scars. They _were_ claw marks. 

Holy _shit_.

He was careful not to let the realization show upon his face as Sal perked up. “Laissez les bon temps rouler!” He exclaimed, face lighting up as he turned to Larry, a grin tugging at his mangled lips. “Right?”

Larry blinked, surprised at their sudden closeness- how had he gotten so close without noticing? But he couldn’t help but nod and smile at Sal’s happiness. “You got it, sugar!”

Sal beamed, doing a little dance before he seemed to realize their close proximity. His gaze drifted back to Larry’s lips, this time not to read them, before slowly trailing back up to his eyes.

Larry shifted closer, head tilting, leaning in-

The sound of a sudden _crash_ had them both jerking back, Sal’s eyes wide in alarm, Larry’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “The fuck was that?” Sal asked after a moment, closing his textbook as Larry rose to his feet.

“Dunno. Wanna go-”

“-Check it out? Yes.”

Larry flashed a small smile and held a hand out to the other, who quickly took it and rose to his own feet. Quietly, the pair stepped out of his bedroom, creping through the apartment. “It might’ve jus’ been Terrance movin’ shit ‘round, or somethin’ from the apartments ‘bove this one.” He whispered, receiving a soft hum in response as they peeked out of the front door.

Sal let out an alarmed noise and smooshed himself past Larry only to drop down in a crouch. “Hey, there, little dude!” He cooed to the ball of fur that was staring him down like he’d burnt down it’s house.

“The fuck is that?” Larry asked, squinting in the bright light. It looked vaguely…

“A cat!” Sal replied, sounding far too excited. “Do you have any tuna? Or food that you could spare?” He asked, looking up at the other with raised brows. 

It hit Larry that Sal hadn’t put on his mask.

“Y-eah, hang on…” Sliding back into the apartment, he crossed to the kitchen with quick, long strides, immediately raiding the cabinets. There were a lot of cats that lingered around Addison Apartments, and he and his mom always made sure to leave some food out for the strays. Neither could ever handle seeing an animal go hungry. 

Tin of tuna opened and in hand, he made his way back to the front door, finding Sal sitting on the door step with the cat in his lap, purring away.

“He doesn’t have a collar,” Sal said, looking up at Larry with… Was that hope in his eyes? “I had to leave my cat with my aunt back in Jersey…” He explained, head ducking back down as he scratched the tabby behind the ears. “He looks just like Gizmo…”

Oh. Oh, no. That was a sniffle. 

Larry panicked briefly before plopping down behind Sal, his legs on either side of the blue haired teen, and leaned forward to peer down at the fur ball. “He’s a cutie- I ain’t seen him ‘round here before. We gots lotsa strays, Sally.”

Sal didn’t reply, but he _did_ lean back into Larry. That was a plus. 

“I wanna keep ‘im, but he’s so tame, so he probably has owners.”

“… His owners might’ve dumped him.” Larry murmured, resting his chin on Sal’s shoulder. The cat was tame, extremely so. It even made itself at home in Sal’s arms, it’s head bumped into his chest.

Sal hummed, lips pursing. “… Ashley can take a picture of him? We can post pictures around here, and if no one claims him after a… Week?” Larry could feel the hope spilling from Sal. “Then I get to keep him.”

“Don’t you need to ask Henry?”

“… I get to keep him.”

“Okay, okay. If ya want, I can keep ‘im down here? Until Henry says yes?” Lisa wouldn’t mind; they’d had many pets through the years. Sal perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Alright, then.” He wrapped his arms around Sal’s middle, smiling gently as the other cooed to the cat.

He was so very fucked.

* * *

October 18th, 1991  
3:40 p.m.

* * *

“I dunno,” Sal shrugged as he lay across the bed, the owner of said bed across from him, writing down chemistry notes. “I just… Like being with him?”

Todd paused, a brow raising as he looked to the other. “… Elaborate a bit more on that?”

Groaning, he rolled over, hanging his head off of the bed, looking at the redhead upside down. “I just…” Like the way his eyes aren’t quite brown, but not quite hazel? Like the way his voice has a natural rasp to it that makes your stomach do flips? Like how chill he is? Like his music collection? The way when he smiles, it shows the gap in his teeth? “… I think I have a crush.”

“I’d say.” Todd snorted, sitting forward. “He’ll be at the Halloween party next weekend.” He paused, looking at the other over his glasses with a raised brow. “You _are_ going, right?”

“… Yeah. Since it’ll be at Maple’s house and not in the middle of nowhere.” Sal replied, shrugging. Todd and Chug had both apologized extensively for leaving him behind the days following the party. Sal had been upset, but forgave them. After all, he couldn’t blame them.

Hell knows he’d have left in a heartbeat if it meant going home with Larry.

“You need a costume.”

“I have one. It’s called my face.”

“… Sal Fisher.”

“What?” He shrugged again, snorting. “It’s true. Hollywood makeup artists wish they could get this face.”

Rolling his eyes, Todd closed his textbook with a sigh. “We’re taking you shopping this weekend. Me, you, and Chug. We’re all going to get a costume. And it’s going to be good.”

“What’s Neil going as?”

“This comic book character called Black Panther.”

“The Marvel one?”

“Yup.”

Sal sat up with a soft groan, head spinning as the blood returned to the rest of his body. “Nice. What’re you gonna go as?”

“I could go as Pennywise the Clown.”

“No.”

“What, scared of clowns, Fisher?”

“What if I said I was _ridiculously_ attracted to them?”

That got a bark of laughter out of Todd. “I’d call you a liar.”

“Good, because they scare me shitless.”

* * *

October 18th, 1991  
10:48 p.m.

* * *

“This is so fucked,” Travis muttered as he leaned against the bar beside Larry, the pair having been dragged out by Ashley earlier. “Fucked, but also necessary.”

Larry didn’t reply, his gaze trained on a redhead. His throat was dry, his hands were shaking. He was hungry. He needed this. Needed the thrill of the hunt, the fight. And the trio that had stumbled into the bar, already drunk, very much from out of town. “Him,” he murmured, nodding towards a brunette. “He’s your type.”

“Aw, you know my type.” Travis snickered softly as he nursed a lukewarm beer that he’d taken all of one sip from. But as his gaze lingered on the brunette, taking him in. He was young, full of life, with clear ivory skin and shaggy brown hair. He was well built, too- enough that he could probably throw a decent punch. A smirk curled his lips.

“Go get ‘im,” Larry murmured, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Bring ‘im to th’ safehouse.” 

Travis didn’t need to be told twice. 

Larry watched as he made his way through the crowd, slinking up behind him. Travis was good at this- hunting, luring the prey in. Honey hues drifted away, towards where Ashley was. She caught his eye, gave him a wink, and led the woman out behind her. 

They’d all brought their own vehicles for a reason.

Pushing away from the bar, he made his way towards the redhead, who’d been left alone by her friends. But it didn’t seem as if she cared, not when she was dancing and having the time of her life. Drawing in a slow breath, he slid through the crowd, catching her gaze- drawing her in. He wasn’t sure how it worked- didn’t know the science behind it. But there was something about his kind that held an allure, apparently. 

Considering how she looped her arms around his neck, it wasn’t hard to disagree.

She was pretty- graceful curves and ivory skin and piercing green eyes. Her lips were painted a shade of red that nearly matched her hair. She smelled nice, too. Really nice. Larry let his head dip, lips brushing against her ear. 

Felt her shudder in his grip.

Laissez faire bon temps rouler.

* * *

October 19th, 12:00 a.m.

* * *

“ _Shit_ , you’re big,” Travis murmured, head lolling back as he slowly lowered his hips. A hiss escaped him at the mixture of pleasure of pain- he _definitely_ hadn’t been prepped enough, but honestly, he didn’t care right now. Not with the hands gripping his hips, the nails digging into his skin, the euphoria of being _full_.

The man- hell, he couldn’t even remember his name, was beautiful. Splayed out beneath him, his head tilted back, lips open as a silent moan escaped him. Travis had made a mess of him, too- his chest was covered in scratches and hickies. 

“That’s right, just like, _fuck_!” Travis nearly doubled over as he began to thrust. Raising up onto his knees, he took over, a hand pressing onto the chest of his lover for the night. “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He asked, voice low, a mere rumble as he leaned over him. “I’m the one in control, got it?” When he got no response, he delivered a quick, sharp slap to his cheek. “I asked you a _question_.”

“Yes, sir.” He finally gasped out, blue eyes wide, pupils absolutely _blown_. So pretty. He couldn’t help but run the same palm he’d slapped him with over his cheek, slipping his thumb between those plush lips had that been wrapped around his cock earlier, outside of the club. 

 

“Good boy.” Travis murmured as he lowered himself again, slowly. He sat up, back arching as he began a nice, slow pace; he wanted this to last. Needed it to last. Even as his body _screamed_ for more. Somewhere in the warehouse, Ashley and Larry were having the same amount of fun. Or maybe more? Maybe less. Travis didn’t care. No, not when he was wrapping a hand around his own throat, squeezing as he began to bounce harder, faster.

A hand wrapped around his cock, and he let out a startled moan, thighs tensing. He should bat the hand away, punish him for touching him, but it felt so good. It was all so good. Too good. His head was swimming. The dude _had_ to be pushing eight inches, maybe more. If he leaned back just so… Oh, fuck. He could _feel_ him pushing against his stomach. Oh, _fuck_.

Reaching down, he grabbed the hand that had been jerking him, gripping his wrist tightly. A smirk curled his lips as he slowed his hips to the point where he was barely even moving, sunk down to the hilt. He leaned forward, pinning his hand above his head. “You look so pretty right now,” he murmured, licking a stripe along his neck. The bitter tang of sweat clung to his tongue as he nibbled, not enough to break the skin. Not yet. No, he wanted to have more _fun_. “All spread out beneath me, desperate to cum, desperate to please me. Your cock’s so deep in me right now…” 

“So good,” his lover whispered, lost in the haze of sex and alcohol and god knows what he’d taken earlier. He’d given Travis some, and Travis took it like a good sport- Molly?- but it didn’t even affect him. Alcohol didn’t either. A shame; humans created so many new fun things within the past few decades.

“You wanna cum?” He asked, pushing himself up to study the brunette. His face was thin, cheekbones from heaven above. Truthfully, he could have been a sibling to Larry if his skin was tanned, but those eyes… Sal. Nearly the shame shade, but lighter. A blissful mixture of Sal and Larry. That’s what he was. Oh, how his mind began to run with that thought. Sal beneath him, getting fucked into oblivion by him, with Larry behind him. Or maybe he’d be on his back; would Sal fuck him? Or ride him? Oh, that would be _beautiful_.

He was nodding, desperate.

Travis’ smirk turned cold. “Not yet.” He sat up, relishing in the whine that escaped his lover. “Oh, you _poor_ thing.” Blunt nails scraped along a pale chest already peppered with hickies and scratches and bruises. “Poor little thing…” Slowly, he drug his thumb nail down the center of his chest as he began to rock, slowly. Brown hues zeroed in on the way the skin flushed red. So close to breaking open. So, so close.

He swallowed roughly.

“You make a good toy, you know?” He snickered as he began to bounce in earnest, hands pressed to his chest. “Such a, _fuck_ , perfect lil’ toy for me. Pretty an-and big and so, so re-ready to please me!” Head tilting back, blond hair sticking to a sweat-slicked forehead, Travis began to lose himself. His thighs were burning, his calves begging for a break. So close, he was so, so close. “That’s right, just like that,” he whispered, panting as he looked down at the other. No, not him. It was Sal, gripping his thighs tight. And Larry, pressed up behind him, biting at his shoulder. And Sal, whose nails would dig into his hips and whose lips would be pressed to his neck and collar bone and sucking.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he whimpered, hips stuttering as he fell out of rhythm, grinding down as quick as he could, no doubt resembling the epitome of a desperate _whore_. Oh, if his father could see him now, the things that good preacher man would call him. Back arching, he stilled, a breathless moan escaping him as he came practically untouched. And his lover boy kept thrusting, hitting _all_ the right places, driving him to let out squeaks as he fell forward. It felt so good, it hurt, the overstimulation. 

A shuddering gasp, and then, stillness.

Travis hummed, pressing slow kisses along his neck, teeth scraping against the skin. “Good boy,” he murmured, shifting his hips, letting him slip free. “Good boy, so good for me…” 

So blissed out he was, he never noticed Travis shifting, a hand wrapping around the base of his throat before it became hard to breathe. 

“This was fun and all,” Travis murmured, brow raised, his face a mixture of hunger, amusement, and disgust. “But you’ve outstayed your welcome.” And he began to squeeze. 

That’s when the fighting began.

He was prepared, slapping the boy hard enough that his head jerked to the side. He wasted no time, leaning down, teeth sliding free, piercing the thin skin of his neck. He jerked beneath him, trying to break free. And the bitch even managed to get a punch in, ripping Travis’ teeth from his neck- effectively ripping a gash across his throat. 

“Well, fuck!” Travis hissed, jaw dripping with blood, watching as the man beneath him struggled to move, to breathe, to do anything. Blood pulsed from the wound, spraying from the artery that had been slashed, striking across Travis’ chest. Scowling, he reached up, fingers dipping into the wound and tugging, pulling free a pained screech. He didn’t mind- he pulled, ripping his throat open, baring his windpipe for the world to see. 

It took all of a minute for the door to be thrown open, Larry standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Really?” He asked, taking in the scene. “ _Really_?”

“It was his fault,” Travis replied as he licked his hand clean, tongue curling around his fingers as he looked over his shoulder to Larry. He let his gaze wander, drunk on sex and the blood filling him with every pass of his tongue. Larry looked _thoroughly_ fucked, too- his hair a mess, shirtless- were those _bite marks_ on his chest?- a pair of black sweatpants covering his legs. “Looks like you had fun, too.”

“I did, but I didn’t make a god damn _mess_ outta my fuckin’ meal.” Larry shook his head, judgement clearly showing. “Is he dead?”

Travis turned his attention to the man beneath him, studying him. Blood still oozed out, puddling on the bed, whose mattress was, conveniently, wrapped in plastic beneath the sheets. He reached out, poking his cheek, pulling up his eyelids. Nothing. No breath gurgling. “Dead.” Travis replied before leaning over, dragging his tongue across the gnarled tear that stretched across his throat. “You gonna just stand there?” He asked, not bothering to look.

“I’m gonna stand here and be consumed in disgust and mild arousal, yes.” Larry replied dryly, finally stepping into the room and closing the door. “Honestly, Trav, you say _I’m_ th’mess, but here you are, ass naked and covered in blood.” A _tsk_ sounded as Larry began to slowly walk towards the bed. “But it sounded like you were havin’ all sortsa fun in here.”

“Mn,” Travis sat up, licking his lips free of blood- and failing. “I was. You should have joined me.”

Larry didn’t respond, instead gripping the hair at the base of Travis’ neck, tugging his head back. A gasp left the blond, his eyes widening, anticipation clinging to him. Larry searched his face, a brow raised as he leaned down, mouth opening, tongue lolling out. He dragged it up slowly from Travis’ collar bone to his lips, claiming them in a harsh, biting kiss- teeth clacking, lips bitten. It was dirty, rough, animalistic. Travis hissed as Larry bit down on his lip, hard enough to split skin before they parted.

Larry’s own jaw was stained with blood, now. Travis liked the sight. His gaze traked across the brunette, noting the tent forming.

“Ash’s cleanin’ up. Go hose yerself down, you piece of shit.”

“Oh, talk down to me harder, daddy.”

“Yer the one with th’daddy kink.”

Travis let out a snort as he climbed off of his toy, stretching his arms over his head. “Come an’ join me.”

“You _literally_ just got fucked.” Larry countered.

A shrug. “An’ I want more. An’ so d’you.”

“Slut.”

“Takes one to know one.”

* * *

October 19th  
3:07 a.m.

* * *

Ashley stared at the room, arms crossed over her chest. Travis and Larry were on their hands and knees, scrubbing it down with a water and bleach mixture. “Travis, buddy, pal, what de _fuck_ did ya do?”

“I had fun.” Came the simple response.

“Ya butchered him.”

“Made it easier for all them gaters.”

Shaking her head, she looked over her shoulder, down at the first level. Three bodies- or, what was _left_ of them. She’d made quite the mess, herself, but it was nothing compared to the mess Travis had left. The sheets would be burnt, and then the ashes would be dumped in the swamp. The bodies would also be dumped in the swamp, in a different area, with cinderblocks to make sure they sink. 

 

The alligators would get to them. And if not them, then the fish. The bodies wouldn’t last long. 

Not with blood still coating them.

“There!” Larry sat back, nodding at the spotless room. All three had been cleaned. “Less git on outta here.” 

Travis stood, dressed in fresh clothes they’d made sure to bring, his old clothes stashed away in a bag that would be taken to Larry’s place to get washed. The trio slipped out of the room and made their way down the stairs, Ashley leading the way.

“Who’s comin’?”

“I mean, we _all_ came-”

“Larry’s walking.”

A bout of laughter left them as the hauled the bodies up, wrapped in the sheets their blood coated. Ashley’s truck was the fastest, and Travis’ truck had been fucked up.

“I’ll go.” Travis offered, shrugging. “I _did_ make the biggest mess.”

“Good.” Larry grabbed the bag of their clothes, sliding it onto his back. “I’ll head on home.”

“We’ll swing by after we’s done.”

“Drive safe.”

He waited, sitting on his bike, watching as Ashley took off down the dirt road. This old warehouse had been abandoned years ago after a hurricane swept through, wrecking it. They’d found it- well, Travis had, seven years ago. It’d taken a while to clean it up, but it worked. They didn’t bother with electricity, instead just buying a shit ton of candles and loading the place up. And it worked. They made it into a little hideout, the perfect place to feed, to hide, to fuck around. 

Shaking his head, he pulled his helmet on, listened as the engine purred to life beneath him. He felt lethargic- he always did after feeding. He wanted to go home and sleep. Gravel kicked up as he revved the engine before taking off, trees blurring past him. 

The redhead had been fun, really. She’d gave him head like no other- she had a fuckin’ _tongue piercing_. And she’d been wicked in bed. But it wasn’t her who he’d seen. 

No, it wasn’t green eyes he’d gazed into. It was a pair of mismatched blue eyes, one real and one fake. 

It was scarred lips that had wrapped around the head of his cock, blue hair that he’d gripped instead of red. A lithe body rather than a curvaceous one. 

He’d pictured Sal the entire time he’d been fucking the redhead into the bed. And he’d never come harder than he had tonight. 

A part of him knew he should be disgusted, shouldn’t have pictured Sal like that, but shit. He couldn’t _help_ it. Sal was an enigma, enrapturing him. He’d envisioned how he would have looked, back bowed, head pressed to the pillows. Would be a sceamer? A sweet gasper? Filthy talker?

His jaw clenched as he swerved onto the highway. It was almost thirty minutes from Estelle back to Gentilly. That would put it almost four by the time he’d get home. But it was a Saturday, so Sal wouldn’t be around until late in the day. He didn’t sleep well, apparently. Nightmares coupled with insomnia. Throw in a dash of anxiety and depression… The kid had issues. 

And was apparently, maybe, possibly, related to the dick who caused Larry to become who he was.

Knuckles whitening with his grip, he sped up; no one was on the road this late at night. It was nice, the open road, no one around. He could let his mind wander. He let himself relax, his defenses slipping.

And what a stupid thing to do.

The bike came to a screeching halt, nearly throwing him off, as he swerved to miss the _person_ standing in the road. He didn’t take his helmet off as he sat, ice creeping through his veins. No, _no_. He didn’t need to look. He knew that scent from anywhere. But he was _dead_. He’d watched him die from an overdose a decade ago. 

But David was standing in the middle of the road, staring him down.

“Dave?” Larry called, voice shaking. Everything in him screamed for him to _run_. David didn’t look right. His skin was too pale. His eyes were too distant. His smile… Fuck, his smile. It was too big. There was blood covering the front of his shirt, his mouth. Dripping slowly, like a dog’s drool. 

His incisors were elongated. 

Larry didn’t waste another second, peeling away, tires skidding. He felt something swipe at him, felt it catch in the leather of his jacket before releasing. Heard the outraged _scream_ that filled the air around him. Wrong, wrong, wrong. David had overdosed on heroin. He wasn’t alive.

But that had been David, covered in blood, smiling at him with teeth too similar to his own.

He sped the entire way home, easily going over ninety until he hit the Seventh Ward, and only then did he finally slow to the speed limit. He barely had enough time to park before he was running into the apartment, slamming the door shut and locking it.

Lisa met him, worry oozing off of her. “What happened?”

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Larry swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I don’t fuckin’ know, ma. I just-… I just saw David.”

“But he’s-”

“Dead? I know. But I saw him. And he was…” Tears. Tears were spilling over Larry’s cheeks as he shook his head, hiccupping. Lisa crossed to her son, pulling him into her arms, tucking his head into her shoulder. “Ma, he was so wrong. He didn’ even _look_ like one o’ us. His skin was…” A shudder ran through him.

“Hush now, cariño. Calm down.” She murmured, slowly petting his head. Her gaze trained on the door, as if daring for it to open. 

Larry pulled back, rubbing at his eyes. “I gotta talk t’ Maple. She gotta know somethin’…”

“After you sleep.”

Larry nodded, dropping the bag of clothes by the couch. 

“I’ll stay up till sunrise. You go sleep. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” shuffling his feet, he slipped into his bedroom, tugging his jacket off. He didn’t look- didn’t want to look- to see the damage that had been done. Instead, he tugged his shirt off, kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and shimmied out of his jeans. He collapsed into the bed, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders.

His gaze landed on his night table. The walkie talkie. Sal had brought it to him two weeks ago; a quick way to contact one another in they needed if, or if Sal needed to talk after a nightmare, or vice-versa.

It was late. Sal would be asleep.

He still grabbed hold of the walkie talkie and clung to it as he closed his eyes. Just holding it made him feel… Oddly safe. Closer to Sal.

Sleep swept over him, dragging him down into the depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

“Have I mentioned that I don’t like swamps?” Travis asked as he and Ashley made their way into her house. “Like, they’re gross. And the animals? Creepy.”

“I like ‘em.”

“You’re weird.”

“I know!”

Ashley let out a snort as she flipped on the lights, only to freeze in place at the sight of her kitchen.

Someone had been in her house. 

Someone had raided her house.

But that wasn’t what alarmed her. No, what made her skin break out in goose bumps was the deer skull sitting on her kitchen table, a single black candle sitting before it.

“Travis?” She called, the blond quickly walking in behind her, freezing at the sight. 

“… Shit.”

“Double shit.”


	11. Heart Shaped Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrance won't speak.  
> Sal has an unwanted visitor.  
> Children skip school and go see fishies before going to CHURCH.  
> A kiss (and more).  
> Sleepwalking.  
> A head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW guys this chapter is 21 pages long and good God did it take a while to do. This is a necessary chapter, because things happen and all of them aren't good. Please read this with a general feeling of unease the entire time. There's... No real warnings. Yet.  
> Those come in the next few chapters.  
> Also, I have no idea how long this is actually going to be. I'm realizing it keeps getting longer the more I write. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It makes me so happy to know y'all are liking this!  
> You can find me rambling about this fic on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to make any fanart or cosplay or... Anything, drop me a link so I can see!  
> Enjoy!

_"Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet._  
_Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath."_  
-Heart Shaped Box, Nirvana

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
5:40 a.m.

* * *

“What the _fuck_ ,” Larry snarled, eyes narrowed as he stared down Terrance’s door, “is goin’ on. I know you know, you know I know shit’s happenin’. Now, tell me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Larry.” Terrance replied through his damned mail slot. Larry rolled his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. Ashley’s apartment had been broken into Friday night, and a not-so-friendly gift had been left behind in the form of a deer skull that _still_ had the damned _meat_ on parts (Travis had puked at the sight of that), and a single, tall, black candle, which was lit. 

In Voodoo, a black candle was serious business, a way to harness healing energies. However, given the fact that her table had symbols carved into that were _not_ there prior to that night were definitely _not_ good, white magic Voodoo. 

Larry had hauled the table out and set it on the curb. 

Nothing in her home had been taken, the kitchen being the only thing that was trashed. The back door window had been smashed, which explained how whoever it was had gotten in. The oddest part? 

No scents. No traces. Nothing, except for the damned candle and the skull.

Larry and Robert had gone through and checked every single knife- none of them matched with the carvings. None of them had been used. 

The silence that spread between himself and Terrance was annoying, enough so that he let out sound akin to a growl before slamming both of his palms against the door, hard enough to cause it to shake on its hinges. “Listen here, Addison- if I get word that you’s somehow involved in all o’ this and you done refused t’ tell _me_ about it, we’s gonna have a problem. And I’ll make sure it gets solved, even if it means breakin’ this door down and draggin’ your ass out of your hole and beatin’ it black an’ blue.”

Terrance didn’t respond. The mail slot slapped closed. 

Larry kicked the door once, hard, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and storming towards the courtyard. Monday; Sal would be waking up within the next hour. Todd and Chug would meet him, and they would walk to school.

Larry was going to join them. The school was on his way to the shop Maple worked at. He had a few questions to ask her, anyway. 

Like what those symbols were. And what could cause David to suddenly come back. And what the fuck was happening that had her so worried. 

“You’re up early,” a voice suddenly spoke up; Larry startled, spinning around, coming face to face with Azaria, one of the college students that rented an apartment with CJ. She was pretty- she had a punk edge to her, despite the sweaters she favored. 

“Same to you,” he replied with a lazy smile.

“Who says I’ve even slept?” A yawn crept up; she covered her mouth with a sweater paw. 

“Midterms?” He asked, joining her on a slow walk around the courtyard. 

“They’re fuckin’ _killer_ , dude. I don’t remember it being this hard before.” She rolled her shoulders, back popping as she stretched her arms up high over her head. 

“School’s gotten harder.” 

“Mn, you can say that again. Hey- question.” She stilled, glancing around as if making sure no one was spying on them. And maybe that was exactly what she was doing, he realized.

“Answer.”

“What’s goin’ on?” She asked, arms crossing over her chest. 

Azaria was one of them, having been changed before she ever moved down here. She was from Texas, apparently; had been all across the state for decades before finally moving here for a fresh start. Larry didn’t know her that well- none of them did, really. She kept to herself, and to CJ and Sierra. Those two… Larry wasn’t sure what their relationship was. 

“Whattya mean?” He replied after a beat, head tilting to the side.

“I’m not dumb. I can tell something’s happenin’.” She replied, leaning back against a pillar that was holding up the balcony for the second floor. “What do you know?”

And so, Larry told her everything that he knew. It took well over thirty minutes, the pair standing in the early morning light. Azaria didn’t respond the entire time, simply stood and listened. Told her about the party, the skull, the bodies. 

She stared him down for a second before, “Sound’s like he’s back.”

“That’s what we’re fearing.”

“If he’s as powerful as you say, then he could be able to manipulate the line between the living and the dead, blurring them together. He might have someone with him that’s well-versed in Voodoo and Hoodoo.” She sighed, shaking her head, afro bouncing with the movement. “Keep an eye on your loved ones. I’ll… Help if you need me.” She flashed a quick smile that was more teeth than anything. “I’m fairly well versed in this whole thing.”

“I’ll let Maple know.”

They parted, Azaria going back to her apartment to start a pot of coffee.

Larry lingered, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at the sky; clouds were forming, heavy bottomed with rain. Maybe he should offer them a ride in his mom’s truck? They could all squeeze in. That idea left when the sound of a car engine idling had him crossing the courtyard quickly. “Early bird,” he called out in greeting as Neil climbed out, a smile on his lips.

“Thought I’d surprise Todd. ‘s gonna start rainin’ soon, y’know.” Neil replied, leaning against the front of his truck. 

“Gonna take Chug, too?”

“Yeah. You’s takin’ Sal?”

Larry faltered at that, swallowing hard and looking off to the side. “I mean, I could… Since you ain’t got the room.”

“Good idea…” Neil trailed off, head tilting to the side. “I’ve gotta question for you, an’ I want an honest answer, ‘cause you’s an honest man.”

“At times.”

“At times.” Neil chuckled, studying Larry. “What is it ‘bout Sal that’s drivin’ you mad?”

“You know,” Larry started as the first drops of rain began to fall. “I wish I knew.”

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
6:10 a.m.

* * *

Sal woke to the sound of thunder rumbling hard enough to cause the walls of his apartment to rattle. He sat up in bed, staring at his window, watching as lightning flashed. Fall storms were always nice; he liked the rain. 

His alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another forty minutes. But he wouldn’t get to sleep, not now. Instead, he’d take a shower. A nice, long shower. 

A peek out of the door confirmed that his father wasn’t awake yet; the apartment was silent. He grabbed his clothes for the day- a black sweater and a pair of red jeans that had the knees ripped, and a pair of boxer briefs before he slipped into the bathroom. 

It wasn’t often that he was able to take his time showering, at least not in the mornings. He’d left his eye in his bedroom, and his mask- but he’d grab those after. 

His hair was a mess, and that was putting it lightly. Shaking his head, a snort escaped him as he began to brush it out, starting at the ends and traveling up. He’d need to touch up his roots soon; the blond was starting to show through. Friday after school; that way, it’d look nice and fresh for the party on Saturday.

A wince crossed his features as he reached a particularly nasty tangle. “Fucker,” he hissed as he finally got it untangled. His hair was wavy, the humidity of New Orleans having brought it out when he moved down here. He could straighten it, but it wouldn’t do any good. 

Hairbrush set aside, he grabbed a towel and pulled the shower curtain back, turning the water on. Monday- no gym. That was a relief. But how would he get to school? He’d ask his dad, but he didn’t wanna risk making him late. 

That was a problem for after shower Sal to think about.

The water was warm- not scalding, nowhere near cool. A nice heat that had his shoulders relaxing and his head tilting back in the spray. He needed to get his hair trimmed up soon, the ends falling almost to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He’d put it up today- maybe in a bun? Or a high ponytail. Something that would survive the thunderstorm. Maybe two buns?

Two buns would be cute. And would be easy to manage with the rain. 

Shoulders rolling, he reached out to grab hold of his shampoo, squirting a liberal amount into his palm before beginning to lather up his hair. Over the weekend, he’d gone to get his costume with Todd and Chug; Chug ended up going with a Joker-esque costume, while Todd went with Chucky the doll. It’d taken Sal longer to decide, until he finally found something he could work with: The Phantom from Phantom of the Opera. He did get a different mask- solid white. Todd had tried to talk him into getting a half-face one, but he’d declined. Even _if_ it was Halloween, he didn’t want to walk about with his face on display.

Maybe one day. Not today, though. 

He tilted his head back, rinsing the floral smelling shampoo from his hair. Monday- French test today. He’d gotten Larry’s help Friday, which was nice; he made it make more sense. Maybe it was because he spoke French so fluently and was good at sounding out the words. Better than Todd, at least. Blindly, he grabbed for the conditioner, nearly missing it but catching it at the last second. 

A grin spread across his lips at his little victory.

Scarred fingers combed through blue locks, untangling it the best he could. His mind drifted again- to blond hair and brown eyes and tanned skin. Travis was a mystery to him; he was kind, but had rough edges that threatened to cut if you got too close. He couldn’t help but wonder where he was from- his accent was different from Larry’s or Ashley’s. Then again, Ashley’s accent was a whole other thing in and of itself. 

A hiss escaped him as he tugged a particularly gnarly knot free.

Conditioner washed out, he grabbed for the bodywash, half paying attention. Larry… Larry was another confusion topic. He was nice, and Sal would be lying to himself if he said there wasn’t an attraction there. But there was also the question of what was going on with him- what was going on in _general_. But Travis had said that they weren’t together, so would that make them… Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? He wasn’t sure.

He tried to ignore the way his body heated up at the memories.

Sponge full of body wash, he began to wash himself down, running across the smaller scars that dotted his arms, some in neat, straight lines that weren’t caused by that _canine_ all those years ago, others deep, jagged grooves done by claws. Down, across his sternum, across his stomach, onto his back. And then, down- a soft noise escaped him as he brushed across his hardening member. Annoying, the human body was.

He’d finish washing, and then deal with _that_.

His legs were nice, he noted as he stared down at them. Pale, but he had nice thighs. And his calves weren’t that bad. The hair on his legs was pale enough that it wasn’t visible unless you were up close and personal, and even then, it was still difficult. The perks of being a natural blond.

… Maybe he should shave.

… He’d shave Friday. Or Saturday morning. It wasn’t like his hair grew fast. And he didn’t have to worry about facial hair- that would never be a problem. So, that was nice.

Eye closing, he let his head tilt back as the suds were washed from his body. The water felt so nice; back in Jersey, the water had been hard. Here, it was soft; it didn’t feel like needles being shoved into his skin.

Swallowing roughly, he dragged a hand down his chest slowly, teasing his stomach, his sides. A shudder danced through him as he reached up with his other hand, pushing his bangs back from his eyes. Said hand traveled down, lingering at the base of his throat. 

_Gripping Travis’ throat, pulling him back against him_.

A soft gasp left him as he gripped himself. He needed to make this fast- his father would be up soon. Teeth both real and artificial dug into his bottom lip as his hand started to move and a quick pace, mimicking the way Larry’s hand had moved on Travis. 

_Slotted between them, Travis at his front, Larry at his back. Travis’ back arching, his hands braced against the… Tree? Wall? Vertical stationary object. But his moans were loud and pure and true as Sal thrust into him. And Larry, behind him, nibbling at his shoulder, mouthing at the back of his neck, whispering French and Spanish phrases into his skin. Pushing into him, praising him for being so tight, so warm, his hand wrapping around his throat, squeezing tight enough to make his head swim-_

Sal shuddered, gasping, forehead resting against the wall of the shower as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss washed over him. All traces of what he’d done, washed away. He stroked himself once, twice, three times more before letting his hand drop.

He didn’t think on what his mind had conjured up. 

A quick wash off, and the water was shut off. He toweled off quickly before wrapping his hair up in the towel. 

A quick glance in the mirror showed him pale skin, hips that showed the bones, a waist that was almost _too_ thin (he did eat! A lot!), ribs that were almost visible. He didn’t stare for long, instead pulling on underwear and jeans, the sweater getting tugged (with a level of difficulty) over the towel on his head.

Maybe he should wear a different sweater, he though halfway through. Wait, no. No, he’d wear this one. He just needed- there! Freedom, light, oxygen! 

A lopsided grin met him as he looked at his reflection before a snort escaped him. The towel as now lopsided, blue strands peeking out. He straightened it up before reaching for a tin of moisturizer, carefully smoothing it over the deep scars in his skin, around the empty eye socket, careful over the thin skin of what was left of his nose. The moisturizer was unscented- exactly what his doctor had told him to use. Anything extra could irritate his skin too much.

Maybe he should go as a fortune teller! 

An actual laugh escaped him at the thought of showing up dressed in gaudy robes and a headdress. No, no. That was not going to happen.

Instead, he took the towel off of his head and shook out the wet strands.

He needed to dry it before doing buns. Brush in hand, he tilted his head over and began to brush it out, wincing at the occasional tangle before he grabbed the hair dryer. Lowest setting, cold air hit him, making him wince before he worked on drying the thick strands. Bent over as he was, he could see as a light flicked on outside of the door.

Dad was awake!

A hum left him as he straightened, setting the hair dryer aside. His hair was half dry- that was good enough. It could finish air drying as he ate a bowl of cereal and watched the morning news with Henry. Opening the bathroom door, he stepped out, ready to greet his father- only to find…

Nothing.

His father’s door was still shut, snores still spilling out. 

A chill danced down his spine as he stood at the bathroom, staring at the wall. The light switch was turned up. On. Someone had turned the light on. Someone was here. Someone was in the apartment. _Someone was here someone was here someone was here SOMEONE WAS HERE_.

He shifted his weight, his heart in his throat, and dashed into his bedroom, catching the door just in time to keep it from slamming. 

He stood there, breath catching in his throat as he listened. He couldn’t _hear_ any movement outside of his door. Ear pressed to the door, he strained, going as far as holding his breath. 

A floorboard creaked.

Not outside of his room.

 _In his room_.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t _move_. His breaths came in sharp, short gasps as he gripped the doorknob. But his hand wouldn’t turn it. Even as the footsteps grew closer. God, the smell. Rotten meat. The same smell that the dog had had on its breath. Oh god, oh god, oh _god_. He couldn’t move why wouldn’t his legs move why wouldn’t his hand move he needed to move needed to move NEEDED TO MOVE _NEEDED TO MOVE_ -

The sensation of a hand drifting through his hair was enough to get him to throw the door open and haul his ass out of there, running through the apartment until he reached the kitchen. Safety. Knives. He stared down the hallway, watching as- as the _figure_ stepped out of his room, turned its head towards him- no, it’s head just… Lolled over. Like it was connected correctly. A whimper left him as he backed up against the wall, sliding to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest, buried his face in them, and covered his head with his arms.

Heavy footsteps sounded, drawing closer and closer.

A scream escaped him as a hand grabbed his arm.

“Sal! SALVADOR!” Henry’s voice cut through the blind panic that had filled Sal, causing his head to jerk up. Eye wide, he stared up at his father’s worried face- facial hair needing a trim, blue eyes worried, brows pinched. 

His gaze tracked over Henry’s shoulder, towards the living room.

Nothing was there.

He didn’t hesitate in throwing his arms around Henry’s shoulders, sobs tearing free as he clung to his father for dear life. Henry didn’t speak, but wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close.

“What happened?” He asked after a moment. “Was it another nightmare?”

“No- no,” Sal shook his head, pulling back and hiccupping. “Not a nightmare. Someone was here. In the apartment.”

“What?!”

“My room- they were in my _room_.” He swallowed roughly, breaths still coming too fast. Anxiety. He was going to have a panic attack. “Can’t breathe,” he whispered, causing Henry to quickly scoot back on the floor.

Sal hunched over, eye squeezing shut. “One, two, three, four-” breathe in. Hold for five. “One, two, three, four, five, six.” Exhale for six. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, focusing on his breathing. When he looked up, he could see Henry making his way back towards Sal, coming from the bedroom with a grim look.

A ball of lead formed in Sal’s stomach.

Henry crouched down and held out a picture frame. Hands shaking, Sal reached out, plucking it from his father’s grip carefully. It was the picture of his mother and him, taken a month before their world was torn apart. But that wasn’t the problem- no, it was the fact that the picture had been _smashed_ , and his mother…

His mother’s head had been torn off from the picture.

A lump formed in his throat as he set the picture down carefully.

“I’m calling the police,” Henry stood slowly, dragging a hand over his face. Sal shook his head, shakily making his way to his own feet. “Work won’t be happy-”

“Don’t,” Sal rubbed the back of his head, “Don’t. It was probably just some druggie. This isn’t the best area, and we don’t…” We don’t need to bother with the police.

Henry studied his son for a minute, brows furrowed. Sal seemed to be better, but… “I’ll drop in during lunch and mention it. See if there’s been any others reported.” He decided finally. 

Sal didn’t respond, just nodded in agreement. 

Henry picked the picture up after Sal made his way out, back towards his bedroom. The scene was already contaminated- he shouldn’t have grabbed the picture frame, should have just left the apartment. But seeing Sal on the verge of a panic attack, hearing that scream. It had been terrifying. He hadn’t seen him that close to a collapse in years, not since he started going to therapy.

… Speaking of, he needed to look into a new therapist for Sal.

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
7:00 a.m.

* * *

Sal didn’t linger in his room, grabbing his bag and a hair tie. A ponytail would have to do today. Maybe he could tie it back into a bun later. But he didn’t want to stay in the apartment any longer than he needed. 

Not with the way his room felt.

Yet, he failed to notice how the window was cracked open. How it would have been impossible for a human to get to the second floor. Nor did he notice how his closet door was still cracked open, or the figure that pressed back against the wall.

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
7:15 a.m.

* * *

“You okay?” Todd asked the moment Sal stepped out of his apartment. “You look kinda… Spooked.”

“Someone was in my apartment this morning.” Sal replied with a shake of his head, hands stuffing into his pockets. He could hear Chug’s door opening and closing below them. “I saw them.” 

Thunder rolled with eerily good timing.

Todd didn’t follow Sal, rooted to the spot. “Someone was in your _apartment_?! Why aren’t the police here?!” He all but yelled as he jogged down the stairs after Sal.

“Because we didn’t call them. There isn’t a need, not when the scene is already contaminated. Besides, dad’s getting new locks to put on the windows and door, and he’s gonna stop by the police station on his lunch break to file a report and see if anyone else has had problems with this.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned, walking towards Chug. 

“Didja have a visitor last night Or, this mornin’?” Chug asked, causing Sal to freeze in his steps. “Ma saw someone earlier, but…” Chug finally fell silent after Todd nudged him harshly, shaking his head.

But the damage had been done.

Sal turned on his heel and began to walk away, shoulders stiff. Quietly, the pair followed after, sprinting across the courtyard to get to the safety of the roofed opening. 

“Mornin’!” Neil called, leaning against the wall with a smile. Todd’s face brightened as he jogged to his boyfriend, standing on his toes to steal a kiss. Chug made a teasing gagging noise, but Sal didn’t pay them any mind. His gaze was trained on Larry, and the truck behind him.

“Sally Face!” Larry cheered, arms tossed over his head. When he didn’t get a response, he hesitated, arms dropping. “Sal?” He tried again. He could feel Neil’s eyes on him, on Sal, concern oozing from him. “Sal, what’s going on?”

That’s when the sound hit them all. The soft whimper.

Todd’s eyes widened in alarm as Sal’s shoulders jerked once. Before he could react, Larry was pulling Sal into a gentle embrace, the smaller boy’s arms wrapping around his waist, clinging. Larry didn’t speak, instead just let his chin rest on Sal’s head as the boy sobbed.

“… We’re skipping.” Todd decided in that moment. 

Sal made a confirming sound.

“Where to?” Neil asked, arms draped over Todd’s shoulders from behind as Todd leaned back against him.

“… Sal hasn’t gone to the Aquarium of the Americas yet.” Todd mentioned softly, watching as Sal pulled his face from Larry’s chest enough that he could look at the redhead. “You wanna go there?”

A nod.

“To the Aquarium we go!” Larry cheered softly.

“Because who needs a French test?” Sal sniffled, the sound oddly distorted; Larry knew why. He’d give Sal some tissues when they got into the safety of his truck.

“Was that a joke, Sal?”

“My grade in French is a joke.”

“Oh my god.”

“Should we swing by and see if Ash and Travis wanna join?” Todd asked as he pulled his hood up.

“Ashley and Travis both work today,” Larry shook his head, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “So, who’s leadin’?”

“I will.” Neil flashed a smile as Todd stepped away. “So, field trip time?”

“Stop.”

“FIELD TRIP TIME!” Neil and Chug cried simultaneously. Todd groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“I take it back I’ll suffer through French.”

“Too late I wanna see the jellies.” Sal interrupted, freeing himself from Larry’s arms.

Todd paused, staring at Sal. “… That was oddly cute? Don’t do that.”

“Please, do that.” Larry added.

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
7:30 a.m.

* * *

Larry’s truck was warm, the seats comfortable, the floorboard clean. The radio worked, too, which was nice; Judas Priest was playing softly as Sal finger combed his hair.  
“What happened?” Larry finally asked after a good five minutes of relative silence.

Sal hummed as he began to gather his hair up. “… Someone broke into the apartment this morning.” He answered after a moment, an alarmed squawk escaping him as Larry swerved to avoid a man who very nearly got ran over. 

He laid on the horn, scowling. “You got _broken into_?” He hissed, brows furrowing. “Like, did they come in through the door, or...?”

“Dunno. It didn’t seem like it? They didn’t take anything either… Well, I mean… They took _something_ , but like. Nothing… Expensive?” Sal shrugged before leaning his head down, pulling his hair up and into a loose ponytail before parting it in the middle, just above the hair tie. Grasping the end of the ponytail, he twirled it to keep it together before slipping it through the little hole he’d created. A French ponytail. 

He needed a mirror if he wanted to do buns, and an extra hair tie. He had neither.

“What’d they take?”

“… A picture of mom. Or, her… Face. They broke this picture I had of me and her, and just… Ripped it. Took only her head.”

Larry hissed softly, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Odd that you’s say that, ‘cause Ash got broken into on Friday night while we was out.” 

Sal’s head snapped to the side, staring Larry down as they drove past the Le Musée de F.P.C.. “She did? Is she okay? Did they take anything?”

“She’s pissed. They trashed her kitchen table. But they ain’t take nothin’ else. Jus’ broke her backdoor window and trashed her kitchen.” He left out the deer skull and candle. Sal didn’t need to know about that.

“… Maybe they’re related?” Sal wondered softly, his gaze falling upon the traffic in front of them. Neil’s truck idled ahead of them; if he sat up straight, he could see police lights. “Someone got pulled over.”

“Fantastic,” Larry mumbled, looking into the rearview to make sure no one was behind him before backing up, Neil copying him. He turned around in the F.P.C.’s parking lot and headed down North Durgenois St. 

Related. Could the two incidents be related? It made him nervous to know that Sal was getting dragged into this. To know that someone had broken in to take a photograph of his mother. Why would they take a picture of his mother? That didn’t make sense. Unless…

Unless Maple was right.

The sudden realization had his eyes widening a fraction. But he was careful not to show too much shock, not with Sal right beside him. Sal, with his oddly keen eyes. Or, eye. 

“Jellyfish.” Larry stated, brows raising. “You like them?”

“I like most sea life,” Sal replied as he fiddled with the bottom hem of his sweater. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, glancing over at the blue haired teen. “Sea dragons?”

Sal perked up, sitting up straighter. “Yes!”

“Fuckin’ rad.”

The aquarium came into view, an imposing building that wasn’t quite tan, not quite gray. An odd mixture of the two. It was impressive, really. He could hear Sal’s intake of breath, could practically _feel_ the awe radiating off of him. It was cute.

He was cute.

They paid for their parking across from the aquarium before leaving their trucks. Todd had tucked himself in against Neil as the pair walked, Chug trailing behind but in front of Larry and Sal.

“They have _penguins_?!” Sal exclaimed, practically vibrating with his excitement. “I didn’t know they had penguins!” 

“You’s and Maple would git along nicely,” Chug said with a grin. “Penguin’s are her favorite animal.”

“They’re so cute and the way the waddle!” Sal mimicked a penguin’s waddle, which had the ground laughing. “Cute!”

Larry shook his head, a fond smile curling his lips as he draped his arm over Sal’s shoulders. Neil paid for himself, Chug, and Todd; Larry covered himself and Sal, despite how much Sal griped and argued. He shut up the moment Larry said it was like a date.

That had gotten a snort out of Todd.

They split up the moment they entered, Chug wanting to go find something for Maple in the giftshops, Todd and Neil wanting to go look at the sharks. They all agreed to meet up at the café for lunch. 

Larry let Sal lead him through the exhibits slowly. Sal made him sit and watch the big tank, watching as sharks and large fish swam by. Sal rattled off with different facts on sea life; Larry sat and listened with a small smile. So excited, Sal was. It was refreshing, cute. 

And then, when they got to the jellyfish, Sal froze. He stood for a long time under the low blue lighting, just watching, transfixed by the odd creatures. “They’re technically immortal, you know,” he murmured softly, not even looking towards Larry to see if he heard him. As if he wasn’t absolutely mesmerized by Sal in that moment. This. This was his next painting. Sal, standing here, lit by the soft, watery blue lights of the jellyfish exhibit, head tilted back. Beautiful.

“How?”

“They know when they get close to death. So, they revert back to being small again. Their brains are weird.” He replied, shrugging. “I don’t know the science behind it. But that’s pretty fuckin’ rad.”

He turned, and in that moment, Larry wanted nothing more than to raise his mask and kiss him. His fingers twitched, as if his body had decided for him- but he couldn’t. Not here. 

Later.

“Sea horses?”

“Sea horses.”

* * *

October 21st, 1991  
9:30 a.m.

* * *

Sal had taken him through the entire building, stopping to look at almost every single exhibit. He even got to pet a stingray, which Larry declined (“They feel weird.” “You feel weird.” “That was lame.” “I know.”). But Sal had been excited, and it was cute to see him get so excited over petting something that could, in the wild, kill him. 

Todd and Neil were already at the café when they arrived. Chug was ordering food; Sal wasn’t hungry. Not yet. He was still jittery, Larry noted. His leg bouncing as he sat at the table, fingers picking at the fuzzies on his sweater. Without thinking, Larry reached over, grabbing one of his hands and holding it in his own.

Neil shot him a knowing look over his coffee; Todd was oblivious, rambling with Sal about one fish in particular that Larry definitely did not catch the name of. He gave Neil a lazy smile in return. 

That was when the lightning flashed bright, filling the aquarium; thunder boomed, loud enough that quite a few people exclaimed in shock. 

Sal’s hand gripped his hand tightly, eyes wide behind his mask. 

“That was close,” Todd muttered, frowning as he looked over his shoulder at the thunder storm. When they’d arrived, there had been a lag. But now? Now, it was _pouring_. “Ew.”

“… Should we, like, buy umbrellas?” Neil asked, lips pursing.

Larry and Sal shook their heads. 

“We run out into the rain-”

“And die like men.”

“Oh my _fuckin’_ God.” Neil let out a peel of laughter at how Sal had finished Larry’s sentence for him. 

Sal noticed, then, that Neil’s teeth were pointy. His incisors. “Neil, smile for me.” He demanded suddenly.

Larry froze. Neil froze. Todd stared at Sal in confusion.

“Your teeth- that’s so cool,” Sal said, shrugging. “They’re like cat’s teeth.”

Neil gave a soft laugh, relief dancing in his eyes as he pulled his lip back. “Yesh,” he agreed, hand dropping to his lap. “I was born wit’ them like that.”

“Rad.”

“My friends are so weird.”

“Rude!”

“FOOD.” Chug set their trays down, heaped high with burgers and fries. Sal got a milkshake (which he was extremely thankful for); it was pink. Strawberry. It even had strawberry chunks in it!

He sipped on it while the others ate, his gaze drifting around them. 

But his hand never left Larry’s.

… Larry liked that.

* * *

They lingered in the gift shops after eating, waiting for the rain to lighten up enough that they could get to their trucks without completely drowning. Chug found a little stuffed penguin for Maple. 

That was when the power went out.

Sal jolted, eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling. Around them, surprised yells echoed throughout the building. A minute passed before the backup generators kicked in. “I think we should go…?” He murmured, receiving sounds of agreement. 

Which was how they ended up standing in front of the aquarium, watching as the rain came down in sheets. “Well…” Neil trailed, staring up at the sky.

“Make a run for it?”

“We die like men.”

“I’m gonna melt.” 

“ _ **RUN**_.” Larry bellowed, pulling his jacket up over his head as he took off. Laughter came from the boys, which turned to yelling and hollering as the cold rain pelted them. They peeled across the road and into the parking, nearly colliding into one another. It was exhilarating! Sal all but crashed into the passenger door of Larry’s truck, fumbling with the handle before jumping in.

Larry was laughing breathlessly, head tilted back as they sat in his truck. “That was _insane_ \- you’re soaked!” He exclaimed, turning in his seat to take in Sal’s appearance.

And he _was_. His hair was falling out of the bun, a few strands falling around his face. His bangs were plastered to his mask. “I feel like a drowned rat.” Sal muttered as he reached back, unclipping his mask and pulling it away from his face. Dark bruises sat beneath baby blue hues, showing the signs of insomnia. Scarred lips were tilted up in a smile, and despite the ghastly scars, he was beautiful. 

“I _look_ like a drowned rat.” Larry groaned, dragging a hand through his hair with a grimace. “Ugh.”

“What a pair we make.”

“Mhm.”

Silence fell in the cab of the truck as they watched the rain fall, the clouds low and heavy. Sal hunkered down, shivering slightly- oh. Oh, shit. Larry fumbled with his keys before turning the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. He reached down and turned the heat on, hearing Sal sigh in relief as heat swept through the truck. 

“Roll down your window, Neil’s wanting to talk,” Larry murmured, watching as Sal startled and pulled his mask back on. Reaching down, he quickly cranked the window down. 

“Where you wanna go?” Neil shouted in order to be hear over the sound of rain hitting the metal of the cars around them. 

“Jackson Square?” Larry shouted back, leaning past Sal.

“The Cathedral?”

“Yeah!”

“Lead the way!”

Sal cranked the window back up, glancing towards Larry with a raised brow. “Cathedral?”

“Yeah- St. Louis Cathedral in th’ heart of Jackson Square.” He replied as he took the truck out of park and into drive. They paid the toll before pulling away. “We can stop by th’ Café du Monde on th’ way home.”

Sal nodded and settled in, watching as the buildings past slowly. People hurried around, heads ducked down beneath umbrellas that did little to hide them from the rain. It felt odd, to not be in class- but it was nice. It was a good distraction from what had happened this morning. It still made his heart speed up; someone had been in the apartment, in his _room_.

It made his hands shake.

They had been in his room. Waiting for him? For his father? How long had they been there? How did they get in? Did they forget to lock the front door? They couldn’t have gotten in through his window- they were on the second floor. That wasn’t _possible_. 

Unless it was. 

Unless it wasn’t _human_.

The mere thought had him tensing up, his eyes widening. 

“Hey- hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” Larry asked suddenly, glancing over at him with furrowed brows. He reached over, grabbing hold of one of Sal’s hands.

The blue haired teen shook his head, giving the much larger hand a squeeze. “I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s nothing. Just…”

“This morning?” Larry murmured; Sal nodded.

Silence filled the truck. Larry didn’t pull his hand away. Sal didn’t let go. 

Jackson Square swam into view; despite the horrid weather, there were people walking about. And at the back stood the most beautiful building Sal had ever laid his eyes upon. Pristine white with harsh black steeples that stood tall and proud, piercing the sky. A cross stood atop the middle steeple. The architecture held homage to Gothic Revival, with Spanish colonial and Renaissance hints thrown in. 

The rain had slackened up to barely more than a drizzle; the clouds were still thick, no sunshine coming through. It was beautiful; the square itself was beautiful, but the cathedral put the others Sal had seen to shame. 

Larry parked the truck, Neil pulling in beside him. Sal climbed out, his gaze locked on the cathedral. “It’s…” He shook his head, prompting Larry to smile.

“Beautiful?”

“No, more than beautiful. I don’t know. It’s…” He trailed off. Larry nodded in understanding. It _was_ more than beautiful. Daunting, terrifying, beautiful, magnificent. He remembered the first time he’d seen it. Christmas, 1905. 

Todd had found an umbrella and had it opened, covering himself. Neil and Chug stood beside him, the trio watching Sal as he stood and studied the building. 

“You have an interest in architecture, Sal?” Neil asked after a moment, smiling as the teen nodded.

“I always liked the Gothic Revival style the most. The intricate trim work, the peaked ceilings, the clean lines.” 

Larry hummed, hands drifting to the pockets of his jeans. Slowly, they began the walk to the Cathedral. He tried to keep his eyes off of Sal, but that became virtually impossible when the subject of his daydreams reached up and untied his bun, letting turquoise locks fall in damp waves, the strands beginning to almost curl. Fluffy. It was so fluffy.

Standing in front of St. Louis Cathedral, staring up at it, Sal was frozen. Larry felt a jolt go through him. The way Sal looked in that moment was breathtaking. Beautiful, the same way that the bands of a hurricane are beautiful over the waters of the Gulf. Dangerous, thrilling, telling him to run away but instead he chose to stay and ride out the storm.

Larry was falling.

No, he was literally falling. He missed a step. Oh, no.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, and instead of his face meeting the steps of the cathedral, he found himself being tugged upright. Footing now stable, he glanced to where Sal stood, watching the brunette with an amused look in his eyes. “Thanks,” Sal’s hand was gripping his forearm.

He didn’t let go.

“Welcome. Watch your step. You’d think _you_ were the one with the vision impairment.”

Larry smiled, a soft tilt of the lips. 

The rain began to pick up, causing the quartet to quickly make their way into the cathedral. 

Contrary to popular belief, the eternally damned _could_ step onto hollowed ground. 

At least, when Mass wasn’t happening.

“We gots an hour before Mass…” Neil murmured to Larry, who nodded in understanding. They would need to make this trip short. But Sal… 

He was utterly captivated, looking up towards the ceiling, taking in all the small details. Larry could just imagine how his face looked beneath his prosthetic; lips parted to make a soft ‘o’, eye trailing across the latticework, wonder and awe painted upon his features.

“Meet back here in thirty, yeah?” Todd spoke up, tugging on Neil’s arm. Chug hummed and walked forward, down the isle before sliding into a pew.

Sal watched. So, Chug was religious?

“He’s Baptist, but loosely. He goes to church on Easter Sunday, and… That’s about it.” Larry explained, keeping his voice low. Nodding, Sal turned, gesturing for Larry to lead the way. “This church was dedicated to King Louis the IX of France way back in th’ early seventeen hundreds,” he began to explain as he walked beside Sal. “There’s all sorts o’ people buried beneath our feet right now.”

That had Sal stilling, his head jerking down, staring at the ground before raising to Larry. “Catacombs?”

A shrug. “Maybe. I ‘unno how t’git to ‘em.”

“Damn.”

“Language!” Larry snickered, shaking his head. “You’s in a _church_ , Sally Face.”

“I never was the religious type.”

“Naw?” They began to walk again, slowly. “Didn’ think so. My mama and me- we used t’be. But…” Everything changed. “After pops left, we stopped.” A good lie.

Sal hummed, not wanting to pry into painful memories. Instead, he paused, looking up at the different flags that hung from the second floor. “… This is a catholic church, right?” He asked after a moment. They had made it to the very front.

“… Yes?”

“… Should I get on my knees and repent for my sins?”

A startled laugh escaped Larry, far louder than he’d expected it to be, which ended in him receiving a harsh “shh!” from somewhere in the cathedral. Shaking his head, he grinned down at him. “Sally Face!”

“I mean it- you’re the one who took that in the opposite meaning.” Rolling his eyes, he slowly sank down to his knees.

And oh, wasn’t that a sight. 

Swallowing, Larry quickly joined him, if only to quiet the sudden surge of want that coursed through him. Sal’s head bent, and he clasped his hands before him. He watched as the other sat there for a good few minutes before he let his hands fall. 

“You know what’d be messed up?”

“What?”

“If I started talking in Latin and crawling backwards.”

“ _Sal Fisher_.”

A soft laugh escaped the teen as he rose and stretched, his back popping audibly, making Larry cringe. Ouch. Together, they made their way back up the rows, pausing by Chug. “We’re gonna head to Café du Monde- wanna come?” Sal asked politely, watching as the green haired teen thought for a moment.

“Naw. Maple’s shop is near here, so’s I’m gonna head on over dere.” He replied, flashing a smile. “I’ll tell Todd an’ Neil where yens went off to.” 

“Say hi to Maple for me,” Sal replied, giving a small wave as he made his way back towards the doors. The pair paused once they stepped outside, studying the sky.

“Not raining.”

“Not yet.”

They ended up not going to Café du Monde due to how busy it looked. Instead, Larry just drove, winding through New Orleans, pointing out different places. LaLaurie Mansion, which was apparently haunted. A few different voodoo shops, the place that Maple worked, the garage where Travis worked. It was nice, seeing everything. Getting familiar with it all.

After an hour, Larry pulled into Addison apartments, parking behind the building, near his and Lisa’s apartment. They didn’t get out.

“… I like it here.” Sal admitted, breaking the silence. His knees were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. His mask was off, too, sitting on the dash. “It’s not Jersey- it’ll _never_ be Jersey. But it’s nice. The people here are kinder.”

“Mn,” Larry nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah, that’d be th’ Southern Hospitality.” 

Sal shifted, turning his head to study Larry. In the low light, the angles of his face were softer. He looked younger. He almost startled when the brunette turned to him, but he didn’t.

Just like how he didn’t startle when Larry reached out to cup his cheek. Or when he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

Or when his lips touched his own.

The kiss was gentle, soft, lingering touches and mouths barely moving. They had nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Just here, in this moment. Sal reached up, smoothing a hand through long chocolate brown tresses, gathering a fist full. Larry bit down on his bottom lip gently, enough to garner a gasp from him. The kiss deepened, Larry’s tongue tracing across his scarred lips before finding his own, brushing almost hesitantly before twining.

They broke with a gasp. The air felt charged. Sal panted, pupil blown. Larry had a look in his eye that made him feel like prey. 

A hunter. And he was the hunted.

“… You need to git home.” Larry murmured, even as his hand drifted into blue locks. “Git outta them wet clothes.”

“You could take them off for me.” Sal countered, moving closer.

Until the sound of thunder had them jolting apart, Larry’s elbow hitting the horn, prompting for a loud _honk_ to sound. Sal pressed himself against the door for a minute, eyes wide, heart beating erratically for an entirely different reason.

A minute passed.

Larry let out a snicker before Sal snorted, and soon the pair were laughing hard enough that Sal’s stomach hurt. He wiped a tear from his functional eye and grinned at Larry, who’s head was tilted back as soft, breathless laughs escaped him. 

Beautiful.

“Come on, Sally Face, let’s git ya home.”

* * *

October 22nd, 1991  
3:33 a.m.

* * *

_The sound of water flowing was distant but growing stronger by the minute. An owl hooted overhead, crickets chirping all around. He could see the water through the trees, brushing aside Spanish Moss._

_Voices drifted towards him in the distance. A crow cawed. They were singing in French, or maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell. But their voices grew stronger with each step he took. The trees broke, revealing the swamp, the water seeming still from the surface, but he could hear it running. A hut stood across the swamp from him, and people were in the water, standing hip-deep in places._

_He shouldn’t go in._

_He stepped into the water. Ankle deep._

_The chanting grew stronger, surrounding him. Drums echoed from deep within, or was it below? He couldn’t tell. The water was knee deep now. The hut had fire, light coming from within, or maybe it was behind._

_He heard something splash in the water._

_Something gripped his ankle, dragging him under, water filling his nose and mouth and lungs._

Sal jerked awake with a gasp, a hand on his chest. He was… 

Wet. Sopping wet.

His hair was soaked, his clothes were wet. His sheets were wet.

Tumbling out of bed, he looked around in confusion. Had he gone to bed without drying off? He had been tired. Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom across the hall. It was late.

Light flicked on, he winced at the sudden brightness, giving his eye time to adjust. Gaze sweeping across the counter top, he slowly looked up, frowning. Was that… Moss? In his hair?

Eyes wide, he shakily pulled the moss from his hair, holding it up.

How the fuck did he get _moss_ in his hair?

Before he could utter a sound, a crash sounded from within the apartment, the door being jerked open and slammed shut. He could hear his father’s door opening; he opened the bathroom door, meeting his father’s confused look.

“Stay here.”

“Like hell.”

Together, they crept into the living, and what they found had Sal letting out a piercing scream of horror as Henry turned and vomited upon the hallway carpet.

Sitting on their living room table was a head. Not human. But it was a head of a deer, antlers and all, tongue lolled out of it’s mouth, with fresh arterial blood pooling on the table and dripping onto the ground beneath, staining the rug. 

Sal’s vision went dark, and he passed out.


	12. Long Way Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic shouldn't be messed with.  
> Nor should crime scenes.  
> Maple takes a dive.  
> Crossroads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters? In one week? WHAT IS THIS?! But yes, hi, you get a new chapter because I have the next two chapters already drafted out.  
> And things start getting interesting.  
> No real warnings here aside from brief vomit. Sorry-  
> The next two chapters will be the Halloween party. Yes, two chapters. Because a _lot_ happens, and guess what?  
> Y'all get a lovely gift.  
> Okay, I'm done.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It makes me so, so very happy to know y'all are liking this!  
> You can catch me screaming about this fic and other SF things here: https://fakexface.tumblr.com

“ _Hold my hand,_  
 _Ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river._ ”  
- _Bottom of the River_ , Delta Rae

* * *

October 22nd, 1991  
4:00 a.m.

* * *

The sound of police sirens had woken the entire complex, drawing the tenants from their slumber in the early morning hours of Tuesday. Curious heads peaked out as police officers made their way into the courtyard despite the drizzle that fell, remnants of yesterdays storm. Lights flashed bright and slow; red, blue, white. 

Todd was the first one there, bleary eyed and confused, standing behind the yellow “Do Not Cross” line. More people began to come, watching from their own apartment, from across the courtyard. No sign of Sal.

A panic filled Todd, and he took off, sprinting down the stairs and around the building to bang on Larry’s door. The door was opened, revealing a surprisingly bright-eyed Larry whose hair was tied up in a top knot. “Something happened with Sal,” That had been enough to have Larry taking off, leaving Todd to close the apartment door before running after him. Together, they shoved their way through the crowd, only to be stopped by the police. If it wasn’t for Todd, Larry would have decked the policeman that had barked at them to stay back.

So they stood together at four o’clock in the morning in Gentilly, New Orleans, watching as police entered and began canvasing the apartment.

“Sal!” Larry exclaimed as the teen shuffled out, a bag of clothes in his hands. His heard jerked towards them, eyes wide behind his mask.

He shuffled over to them, ducking beneath the tape and falling into Larry’s arms. “Someone was back. They were there.”

“What?”

“Someone was in the apartment. Me and dad heard them leave. And they left…” His voice trailed off as the police left with a head- a deer head, Larry noted with disgust and no small amount of fear. 

“… They’re gonna need you to come down to the station.” Todd spoke softly, reaching out to place a hand on Sal’s shoulder.

A nod. “They took my statement here, and said they’d come for me later…” A shudder danced through him. “I think I’m in shock? I passed out.”

“You _what_?!”

“Dad caught me, so my head didn’t hit the floor, but I passed out. There was just so much blood? And it was just sitting there, and-”

“Sal!” Henry called, looking around wildly before spotting his son. He quickly ducked beneath the tape and stepped over. “Sal, we’re gonna… We gotta get a hotel room for the next few days.” He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion evident on his face. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the ER?”

“I’m… fine? I’m in shock. I think. I don’t know? I feel cold. And numb.” He admitted, shrugging. “I’m…”

“You two can come stay at my place?” Larry offered, brows furrowed.

Henry paused, thinking. “… Sal, do you want to stay with Larry? Or stay at the hotel?”

“… Both?” 

“Both?”

“If I feel like I’m going to…” Have an episode, have a complete mental breakdown, freak the fuck out. “I’ll have Larry bring me to the hotel when you get a room.”

A frown curled Henry’s lips, but he didn’t argue. “Alright, Larry, what’s your home number?” Larry rattled it off to Henry, who nodded. “Okay, I’ll call when I get the room. Sal- go… Don’t go to class today. Go to Larry’s, and rest.”

“I will…” He wanted to cry. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Henry gave him a small smile before pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you, too, son.”

Sal pulled his bag closer and followed after Larry down the stairs. Todd left to go back to his room, leaving the pair alone. 

“… You sure you’re okay?” Larry asked as they stepped into his apartment. Lisa was still asleep; Larry would tell her everything later. “Also, why do you smell like a swamp?”

Sal froze at that. Larry stilled, watching as Sal reached up to touch his hair. 

“I… Don’t know?” He admitted, shaking his head. “I had this weird dream, and I woke up completely soaked?” His breath began to come fast, his heart beating rapidly, his blood rushing in his ears. His hands were shaking. 

Larry frowned, grabbing hold of Sal and leading him into his bedroom. He closed the door with his foot and pushed Sal to his bed before pushing down on his shoulders, making him sit. “Tell me _everything_.” 

And so Sal did. “It was like… The swamp? A swamp? And there was a… Hut? House? Across the swamp. And people were in the water, holding candles and singing… chanting?” He shook his head and reached back, hastily unclipping the mask and tossing it aside. He needed to breathe. He could still feel the water flowing into his nose, his mouth, down his throat, filling his lungs.

He coughed. 

And coughed.

And _coughed_ , until he was dry heaving, his stomach spasming. 

Larry grabbed his trash can and slid it in front of Sal before rising and holding his hair back. That was when the sound of liquid hitting the tin filled the room, but the smell of bile didn’t follow. No.

Morbid curiosity filled Larry. He leaned over, peering in; vomit didn’t fill the trashcan. Water did.

Water.

Not bile. Water.

Sal was choking.

_Sal was choking._

Panic filled him as he pulled Sal up and began the Heimlich, pulling once, twice, before Sal let out a pitiful whining cough, and something mysteriously wet hit the trash can.

Neither one moved, not for a few minutes, until Sal was breathing normally and Larry couldn’t feel his heart beat through his ribs. Slowly, they both looked down. 

“… Is that… Moss?”

“… Larry?”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna pass out.”

“Okay.” 

And true to his word, Sal blacked out, going limp in his arms. Larry let out a grunt before all but dragging Sal to the bed. He carefully splayed him out onto the bed before straightening up. Brows furrowed, he tugged Sal’s shoes off. 

“Is that Sal?” Lisa asked from the doorway, her robe pulled tight. Larry nodded and turned, grabbing the trashcan on the way and slipped past his mom. 

“Watch him for me? He coughed up fuckin’ _swamp water_ and _moss_. He slept walked. Or fuckin… I don’t know. I need Maple. I need Robert, too.” 

“Swamp water? Oh, heavens…” Lisa pressed a hand to her lips. “

“Keep an eye on ‘im.”

* * *

“It’s early.” Maple stated, leaning against the door. Her hair was still a mess, and she wore a silk nightgown that did little to hide the gracious curves she held. But that wasn’t important. No, what was important was that she get her ass in gear.

“Sal’s being targeted by _someone_. Same shit that happened with Ash? Minus the candle. I think Sal and his dad woke up before they could do anything more. But there was blood- a lot of deer blood.”

That had Maple pushing away and running through the manor. “Grab me my bag and git that black velvet bag I have in the China cabinet in the dinin’ room.” She ordered, her steps echoing as she bounded up the stairs. 

He could hear Robert’s door opening, a soft ‘wha’s wrong?’ followed by muffled conversation. Larry walked through the house quickly, not bothering to linger. Her bag- not a purse, but a messenger bag- was tossed carelessly on the dining table. He grabbed it, slinging it over his shoulder before turning towards the China cabinet. No fine China was within, but rather, crystals and herbs and a few books that Larry had been told to _not touch_ if he valued the usage of his hands. He avoided those books.

Instead, he grabbed the black velveteen bag and stuffed it into the messenger bag. 

“Mornin’,” Robert called as he trampled down the stairs, hair done up in his signature mohawk. He’d pulled on a Black Sabbath hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans; his own bag was slung over his shoulder.

Robert and Maple both had a vast knowledge of Voodoo; Robert was a practicing Wiccan, too. They knew their shit. 

Maple quickly bounded down the stairs, dressed in a simple black sundress that fell to her calves and a pair of simple black ballet flats. She’d forgone any sort of makeup, her face surprisingly bare. “We’ll follow ya in Robert’s car.” 

“Y’all know th’ way.”

Larry handed her bag over and made his way out, leaving the door open. This was the “manor”, nothing like the sprawling thing she and Robert had fixed up out in the boondocks. They had enough money to manage both.

It was almost enviable. 

Climbing onto his bike, he wasted no time, revving the engine once before peeling away from the curb. They’d be behind him within minutes. 

Sal was being targeted. Somehow, he’d been spirited to a damn _swamp_ \- and not just any. Manchac. Where the second Voodoo Queen, the predictor of death, once lived. It made his skin crawl. He’d go back home, swing by Sal’s apartment (if there weren’t any police snooping about, still), before going home. He needed to see it all for himself. See just _what_ he could find that might tie some loose ends together.

Like why Travis recalled seeing someone who held the same features of Diane.

* * *

October 22nd, 1991  
7:30 a.m.

* * *

Maple rummaged through her bag as she sat at the kitchen table, Robert going through the apartment with a white sage smudge stick, murmuring beneath his breath. Sal was still asleep. The police hadn’t come knocking yet. Lisa had gone to do her rounds.

And Larry wasn’t back yet. 

They’d been back for almost an hour now, and he was nowhere to be found. His bike hadn’t come back. It made her antsy, made her skin feel too tight. Something wasn’t right. He should have been back by now. 

“Robert?” She called, glancing over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Wanna go see if you’s can find La-” before she could finish her sentence, the front door was opening, and Larry was walking in with Ashley, Neil, and Travis trailing behind.

Larry had a grocery bag in his hands. “I got food for Sal.” He stated simply, moving towards the kitchen- rather stiffly, Maple noted.

His jacket was ripped. His jeans were dirty.

“Where did you go?” She asked, voice soft, as she drifted after him into the kitchen. “Larry, where did you _go_?”

“I went to check on that damn grave.” He muttered, lip curling into a snarl.

Maple froze, fear climbing through her, snaking up her legs like vines, rooting her to the spot. Behind her, Robert paced.

“And?” Robert asked what Maple couldn’t.

Larry gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. His head dipped low, hair spilling over his shoulders. “And it was dug up.”

Maple dropped her glass of Addison’s sweet tea, the cup shattering upon the tile floor. Ashley let out a surprised squeak. Silently, Travis went to find a broom and mop. 

“Dug up, empty. The casket was splintered. I searched the area, but any tracks that could have been there have been washed away.” He continued, pushing away from the counter. “So, that’s fuckin’ wonderful.”

Maple’s hands were shaking. She couldn’t feel them. “Hey,” Neil spoke softly, stepping closer to her, a hand closing over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be-”

“Shut. Up.” She whispered harshly, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Just shut up. He’s back. He’s back and something is here and oh, God,” she crumpled, then, falling to her knees. Robert knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms. 

The sound of a door opening had them all freezing.

Larry quickly slipped between everyone, taking in Sal’s state. His hair was a mess from sleeping; he’d gotten in Larry’s closet, he noted with a twinge of amusement. An oversized Sanity’s Fall sweatshirt hung off of him, paired with a pair of his own jeans and black socks. His mask was in place.

“What’s going on?” Sal asked, taking in the smudge stick in Robert’s hand, Maple on the floor, the shattered glass, and everyone sort of just standing around as if frozen in time.

“Robert here- you two haven’t met, have you?- Sal, meet Robert, Maple’s brother. Anyways, Robert wanted to smudge you!” Larry quickly explained, moving closer to the younger. “He’s Wiccan, so he wanted to make sure nothin’ bad’s lingerin’. Gonna do some of his white magic shit.”

“… Right.” Shrugging, Sal went to the couch and settled down, pulling his knees to his chest. “… Why’s everyone else here?”

“We was worried ‘bout you!” Ashley exclaimed, moving over to the couch and plopping down beside Sal. “Larry done called us up and tol’ us what happened, an’ we sped on over here t’ make sure you’s alright!”

“And to give you a ride to the station if the police come, so you don’t have to ride in the police car.” Travis added, rubbing the back of his neck. “Police cars aren’t fun.”

A group lie. Maple breathed a sigh of relief as she rose to her feet. “And I dropped my glass of sweet tea because Robert done scared the daylights outta me,” she fibbed, shaking her head.

Sal studied them all for a moment, eyes narrowing. “… Right.” He shook his head and yawned.

“Hungry?” Larry asked, crouching down in front of the teen. “I can make a mean omelet.”

“I don’t have an appetite,” Sal replied, reaching up to rub at his throat, grimacing. “Did I really…?”

“Cough up moss?” Larry finished for him.

Silence filled the room.

“… Well.” Neil clapped his hands together. “Sal, did you get all of your things out of your apartment?”

“I tried. I don’t know if they’re done in there yet, but if they are, I’d like to go up and grab a few more things. I forgot my cleanser and sanitizer.”

Larry and Maple exchanged a subtle look; she gave him a short nod. “I’ll go with ya,” Larry stood, knees popping. 

Sal nodded and clambered to his feet, shuffling on the spot. “… Where’d my shoes go?”

“Oh, right- by the door.” 

As Sal pulled on his worn blue converse, Larry leaned down to whisper in Maple’s ear, “I’ll keep him busy, you do what you need to.”

A nod.

As Sal stood, a knock came upon the door. The group froze, staring, waiting with baited breath before, “New Orleans police.”

A simultaneous breath was loosed. 

Travis was at the door before anyone else could reach it, pulling it open and leaning against the door frame. “Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked, and it was in that moment that Sal realized he _did_ have an accent.

Texan. 

… How curious.

“We’re lookin’ for a kid, Salvador Fisher?”

“Salvador?” Larry murmured, glancing towards Sal. So, his full name was Salvador. That was good to know. 

“I’m here,” Sal spoke up as he pulled his shoes on. “Do I need to ride with you, or can a friend drive me and follow y’all?”

The pair looked at one another before the taller of the two spoke up, “You can follow. Are you ready now?”

“Yes, sir.” Sal ruffled his hair before glancing around the room. They could practically feel the anxiety _oozing_ from him. Larry wanted to go, wanted to wrap him up in a hug, to just pull him back into bed and hold him forever.

Travis cleared his throat. “I’ll go,” he offered; Larry watched as Sal’s shoulders slumped in relief. Good. “Just gotta grab my keys.”

Sal lingered, watching Travis grab his keys before turning his attention towards Larry. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he spoke with such a strong finality that Larry ws struck speechless. 

“We’ll be righ’ here, sweet heart.” Ashley answered for Larry, voice sweet. 

A nod.

Travis followed Sal out, closing the door behind them. A silence crept into the apartment, filling the spaces that had been occupied previously. 

Larry shook his head and moved towards the door, pressing an ear against it. He couldn’t hear anyone; could hear the rumble of Travis’ truck, of doors closing. “I’m gonna give ‘em three minutes, an’ then I’mma go up t’Sal’s apartment an’ see what I can find.” 

Maple dumped the remainder of the broken glass into the trash. “I’ll come with.” Turning, she nodded towards Robert. “Check the buildin’ for me? I wanna make sure nothin’s lingerin’.”

Robert nodded, setting the smudge stick upon the kitchen counter. “Will do.”

Larry pulled open the front door, poking his head out. Nothing, no one. “C’mon, Maple. We can pose as janitors.”

“I always loved a good ‘bout of sneakin’ ‘round.”

* * *

Sitting beside Travis, they followed the police car through the streets of New Orleans.

“Where’re you from?” Sal suddenly broke the silence. Travis hummed, slowing to a stop behind the police car as the traffic light turned red. 

“Huntsville, Texas.” He answered after a moment, jaw clenching. “It’s ‘bout an hour north o’ Houston.”

Sal hummed, shifting in his seat. Traffic was bad that morning. “Why’d you come to New Orleans?”

“Didn’t wanna live in Huntsville anymore.” Shoulders rising in a shrug, Travis glanced towards Sal. “My pa was a preacher, y’see.” 

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the cab of the truck. Sal fiddled with the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt he’d borrowed from Larry. 

“You gonna be okay?” Travis asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the New Orleans Police Department on Royal Street.

A shrug. “I dunno.”

“That’s alright.”

They climbed out, Sal pausing as he looked up towards the building. Had his father already come? Was he still here? Had they gotten him yet?

Travis looped an arm around his shoulders. “C’mon, Sally Face,” he murmured, gently leading him into the building.

* * *

“This place _reeks_ ,” Larry muttered, nose scrunching up as he and Maple crept around the apartment, careful to not disturb any of the markers that had been placed by the police. “Smells like a crypt.”

“Mhm,” Maple hummed in agreement, crouching down beside the table to study the blood that had been left behind. “My question is, why deer?”

“Dunno. Deer aren’t bringers of death or harm. If they wanted that, they’d be usin’ crow or raven or owl skulls.”

Larry made a face at that. “Gross.”

“Yer tellin’ me.”

Larry sighed, shuffling through the apartment. Maple had the bright idea of grabbing gloves before they entered; smart girl. He carefully opened Sal’s bedroom door, poking his head in. The scent that hit him had him gagging, backing up from the bedroom quickly. Maple’s head jerked up at the sudden commotion, and she rose to her feet, skirt of her dress swaying around her calves. She stopped beside Larry, a hand covering her own nose. 

“What the _hell_.” She whispered, moving into the room. Sal kept it clean. She turned slowly; the photograph that had been torn was sitting on his desk. She brushed her fingers against it before turning again, eyes closing. She breathed in deeply, ignoring the urge to gag; below the rancid stench of decay, she could smell Sal- vanilla, cherry blossom, cotton. And below that? “ _Shit_.”

“What? Why shit? What?” Larry asked, stumbling in with a hand over his nose. 

Maple had moved to Sal’s closet, pushing clothes aside. A gasp left her as she took a step back, colliding with Larry’s chest. The taller of the two leaned forward, brows furrowing as he studied the black… Mass? No, not black. Red.

_Blood_ , Larry realized with a start.

“… Tell me what I’m lookin’ at.” He murmured as Maple shook her head.

“I’m not sure?” Maple admitted, brows furrowing. “It ain’t good. It feels… _Old_. Old world.”

“Old world?”

“Old magic.”

“… Voodoo? Magic-magic? Satanic?” Larry asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I… It isn’t high- _white_ magic.” She knelt down, peering at the floorboards. “… It’s wet?”

“Wet? What kinda- oh. Oh, wait. What?” Larry took a step back, hands digging into his pockets.

“Wet. The floor is wet. Like, someone decided t’pour a cup o’ water out. Smells like a-”

“Swamp.” Larry finished for her, swallowing roughly. “Like a swamp. Like how Sal smelled.”

Maple rose to her feet, turning to study Larry. “… There’s one place I know of that holds that sort of power outside of this city.” 

“Manchac Swamp?”

“Manchac Swamp.”

A groan filtered free from Larry as he turned, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair- only to pause. “… Why’s th’ window open?”

“Huh?” Maple leaned past him, staring at the open window. “It was rainin’ all night, so he wouldn’t have kept it open, right?”

“Naw. An’ I doubt th’ investigators would’ve opened it.”

Maple slipped past him before he could stop her, crossing to the window and sticking her head out.

“Swan?” came a call from below. Looking down, she saw Robert standing below the window. “Whatchu doin’?”

“Window was open.”

“I can _see_ that.”

“Whatchu doin’?”

He gestured around himself. “Lookin’.”

“Find anything’?”

“Come down here an’ I’ll show ya.”

She went to climb out the window. Larry quickly grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back in. “No.”

“Rude.”

“We will _walk_ like we are completely normal people.” He replied, turning with Maple still held in his arms, and freezing as they stared at the closet, and the sudden _lack_ of any markings.

“… What the fuck.”

* * *

October 22nd, 1991   
10:30 a.m.

* * *

Sal sat in the grey on grey on grey room, staring at the table. He wasn’t in trouble, he knew this. But it still felt like he was in trouble. He tapped the table with black painted nails, waiting. How much time had passed? Ten minutes? An hour?

His head jerked up as the door opened.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait,” the investigator spoke, a smile curling his lips. “Busy time o’ year an’ all.”

“Of course.” Sal replied softly.

“So… I suppose the first thing I should ask is, are you okay?”

“I mean, aside from coming into my living room and seeing a deer head on my table, I’m peachy keen.”

A chuckle left the man. “Of course. I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.

“Okay. I want you to tell me everything that has occurred.”

Sal hesitated before nodding. “Two days-, no, yesterday? Morning? Someone had broken into the apartment. I didn’t know they were there until I heard movement. I had gotten up at six in the morning, before my alarm went off, to take a shower. The lightning had woken me up. And I showered, and I thought dad was up. But when I opened the door, I could hear him snoring still. So, I… I ran to my bedroom and closed the door.

And they were in my bedroom with me. I was standing in front of my door, and I could hear the floor creaking, and then they touched my hair, and I pulled the door open and ran to the kitchen. And I could see them standing in the hallway- I couldn’t… I couldn’t make out any features. They were tall, but it was dark and they were in the shadows so I couldn’t really see? And… then they were gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”

The investigator hummed, his pen drifting across the notepad. “And this morning?”

“I needed to pee. So I got up, and was in the bathroom, and I heard the front door just… Jerk open? And then slam shut. And dad woke up, and told me to stay in the bathroom and I didn’t, and I followed him out to the living room, and saw the head and I… Passed out.”

“Understandable.”

Sal nodded. “And that’s it.”

“You moved here when?”

“August.”

“You like the city?”

“It’s nice. I’ve never been this close to the ocean before.”

“You been down to it yet?”

“Not yet. School takes up most of my time.” 

A hum. “You’re in your senior year, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any plans for college?”

“Not yet, sir.” Sal didn’t like this.

“Alright…” The man tapped his pen on the table, studying Sal. It made him fidget. “That’s all I have for now. If we need to know more, we’ll call you.”

“So, I can leave?”

“Yep.”

Sal nodded and rose the same time that the man did. He opened the door for him, and Sal slipped out with a soft ‘thank you’. A glance up to the clock on the wall let him know that two hours had passed.

Travis was sitting on the bench, staring at the floor, when Sal stepped into the waiting area. Blond hair fell into brown eyes, hiding his face. That is, until Sal stepped closer, causing his head to jerk up. 

“Done?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Travis stood and led the blue haired teen out, drawing in a deep breath as soon as they were in the open air. “McDonald’s is just down the road from here. Wanna stop?”

“Please. I’m starving.”

Travis unlocked the truck, allowing Sal to climb in. He settled in, pulling the sleeves over his hands. “You alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

A tanned hand reached out, turning the radio on. Country. That was… Startling. Sal raised a brow, glancing towards Travis, who let out a snort. “I’m from _Texas_ ; it’s illegal to not at least be able to tolerate country music.”

“Who is this?”

“Reba McEntire.” He turned it up, a smile curling his lips. “ _The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia._ ” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along with the song before he began to sing along softly. “ _He went off to Andy's house, slipping through the backwoods quiet as a mouse; came upon some tracks too small for Andy to make. He looked through the screen at the back porch door, and he saw Andy lying on the floor in a puddle of blood and he started to shake…_ ”

* * *

October 22nd, 1991  
11:00 a.m.

* * *

Manchac Swamp.

“Sal said he’d dreamed o’ this place,” Larry murmured as he parked his truck on the side of Old US 51. Maple hopped out, having stolen a pair of Larry’s mud boots. The pair made their way down, careful to stay on the trail for as long as they could. “Said there was people standin’ in the water wit’ candles, and was singin’. Or chantin’. I asked him what they was sayin’, and he couldn’t remember.”

“Not surprising.” Maple shook her head, ignoring the way the hem of her dress was getting wet. “I mean, lookit where we is, Larry. We’s near where Fenrier was.”

“Where Julia Brown predicted the death of herself and so many others.”

Maple hummed, crouching down at the edge of the water, her fingers drifting along the surface. The path ended; they would need a boat to go any further. No one in their right mind would wade out into the waters. Larry stood behind her, gaze sweeping across the swamp. Something splashed in the water, making him jump.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he muttered, shaking his head. This place felt weird, the energy skewed in a way he didn’t want to think much on.

Maple froze. 

“ _Not a son. A daughter_ ,” came a voice, sounding as if it were coming from behind them, above them, before them and beneath them all at once. It had a strange lilt to the words, not quite French, not quite southern. Cajun, but older. Proper. 

“ _Shit_.” Maple hissed.

Before she was tugged into the water.

Larry let out an alarmed shout, falling to his knees and reaching out. The water wasn’t that deep! She couldn’t have just disappeared! Laughter surrounded him, echoing throughout the area, filling every crevasse, burning into his mind. His vision darkened at the edges, his hands went numb. “Shut up _shut up_ _**SHUT UP!**_ ” He yelled, voice echoing throughout the swamp.

Silence fell, so suddenly that his ears began to ring. Nothing moved.

He held his breath, straining to hear movement, to hear _anything_. 

The sound of water dripping had him turning quickly, falling onto his ass as he stared up.

Maple stood behind him, dazed, dark blood dripping slowly from a cut across her cheek. “Larry?” She asked, brows furrowing. “What happened?” She had moss clinging to her arms; her hair dripped with swamp water. 

“I don’t know, but we’re leavin’. Now.”

She nodded, arms crossing across her chest. She was shivering; he quickly pulled his jacket off and slung it around her shoulders. Together, they began to navigate their way out of the swamp, only to pause.

“… It was daylight when we left, right?”

“… Yes.”

“… Why is it nighttime?”

“… I have no fuckin’ idea.” 

They made it back to his truck, climbing in and simply sitting there, confusion addling their minds. He turned the heat on for Maple before checking the time.

It was _ten at night_.

It had been _eleven_ when they got here.

“Maple?” Larry asked softly as he took the truck out of park, shifting gears as he carefully turned around on the old highway. 

“Larry?”

“What happened?”

“I think we found ourselves a crossroads.” She answered, her gaze drifting around, as if she were searching for something- or some _one_.

Larry hummed, brows furrowing. “Explain.”

She shifted, making a face at the state of her clothing. “A crossroad is basically a spot where the worlds meet but separate; it is neither here nor there. Betwixt and between.” She explained, gesturing with her hands. “It’s a place where spirits can be contacted easiest. It depends on who talk to- in Voodoo, in order to get good at different things like playin’ a musical instrument, throwin’ dice, or dancin’, you go to a crossroads a certain number of times, either at midnight or just before dawn, and you meet a "black man," who some call the Devil, who will bestow upon one the desired skills. In the Vodou tradition, Papa Legba is the lwa of crossroads.

“In Greek mythology, crossroads were associated with both Hermes and Hecate, with shrines and ceremonies for both takin’ place there. The herm pillar associated with Hermes frequently marked these places due to the god's association with travelers and role as a guide.” She paused, brows furrowing. “Though less central to Greek mythology than Hermes, Hecate's connection to crossroads was more cemented in ritual. 'Suppers of Hecate' were left for her at crossroads at each new moon, and one of her most common titles was 'goddess of the crossroads.' In her later three-fold depictions, each of the three heads or bodies is often associated with one of three crossing roads.”

“So, what you’re sayin’ is-”

“We found a crossroads.”

Larry shook his head, pulling onto the main highway. “And what about what… Happened t’you?”

“… A demon.”

Larry very nearly caused an accident by swerving suddenly, which ended in him receiving multiple honks in anger. “A _WHAT_ NOW?!” He exclaimed, eyes wide.

“A demon of sorts. I’d need t’go back an’ spend some mo’ time there, but…” Her shoulders rose and fell. “A demon. At least, that’s what my gut’s tellin’ me.”

“D’ya think it’s got somethin’ t’do with everythin’?”

“I sure hope not. Maybe it’s just… More active righ’ now, since we’s so close to Samhain. The Veil’s gettin’ weaker by the day.”

“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head as they entered into Gentilly. “You wanna shower at my place?”

“Please.”

“You can borrow some o’ my clothes.”

“You’re such a sweet heart, Larry.” She leaned over and pecked his cheek. 

“ _After_ we git a look at you.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she jumped out of the truck as soon as he parked and made her way inside, pausing only to look up towards Sal’s window. Robert had pointed it out earlier, the black splotches that resembled dried blood that had trailed down from the window. Or up? They hadn’t been able to tell. But now, in the shadows, Maple wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t blood.

Not after what had happened.

“Where in the Sam Hell have you two been?!” Neil exclaimed as he threw the door open. Larry flinched, but Maple waltzed on in.

“Sal here?”

“Naw, Travis took ‘im to the hotel after he got done at th’ police station. Said the kid was fallin’ asleep while eatin’ some pancakes at McDonald’s.”

“So Henry got a room?”

“Yeah, it’s near th’ French Quarter.” Neil shook his head, closing the door after Larry entered. Lisa was in the kitchen, talking softly with Ashley.

Robert frowned, standing in front of Maple. “Explain. Both of you’s.”

Maple drug a hand through her hair, making a face at the tangles. “We went out t’ Manchac, like I said we was.”

“And went for a swim?” Travis asked, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Naw.” Larry settled onto the couch and reached up, tugging on the back of Travis’ shirt.

Maple shifted in place, unsure of where to go, exactly. “We were close to Fenrier, out on old US 51. And we went onto a trail, and… It turned out to be a crossroad.”

Lisa let out an alarmed noise from the kitchen. Robert, on the other hand, remained silent, staring hard. 

“Larry, what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him. “I don’t… My mind’s all foggy.”

“We was standin’ there, talkin’, just lookin’. Sal had a dream that he went out there, and that there was people standin’ in the water, chantin’. And there was a lil’ hut, and someone was inside… So, we went out and checked it out. But when we got there- the energy felt weird. Off. Like lightnin’ was gonna strike at any second.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “An’ Maple knelt down t’look at th’ water. And a voice spoke up, and then Maple was pulled on into th’ water.”

Lisa made her way in, arms crossed over her chest. “You said this was a crossroad?”

“Yeah.”

“… And you were pulled under?”

“Yes’m.”

“… You came into contact wit’ a crossroads demon.” Robert shook his head, lip curling. “Maple, are you alright?”

“I think so?”

“How long was she under?”

Larry rose to his feet. “That’s the thing,” he began, shaking his head. “I don’t know. We got there at eleven, and when we left, it was ten. But I remember the laughter- it was so loud.”

“Laughter?”

“A woman’s voice. And a man’s. And a child- there were so many voices.” His voice hitched as he shook his head.”

“… I think that’s enough excitement for tonight. Maple, querida, let’s get you cleaned up.” Lisa wrapped an arm around her and lead her into the bathroom.

“I’m… gonna- did Sal leave a number? I wanna check in on ‘im.” Larry spoke, glancing towards Travis, who held out a slip of paper for him.

“Who’s stayin’?” Ashley asked, having pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter.

“I will.” Travis replied, shrugging. “Safety in numbers, right?”

“I’m staying.” Neil shook his head. “Todd lives here, too. I want to make sure he’s gonna be okay.”

“Got room for two more?” Robert asked, glancing towards the bathroom. “I wanna keep an eye on Maple.”

“Sweet.” Larry yawned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Slumber party.”

“Go call Sal.” 

Larry nodded and grabbed the phone, carrying it into his bedroom and closing the door. He studied the number for a second before ringing it up. 

And waited.

Until the phone was picked up. “ _Hello?_ ” Sal’s voice spoke, soft. Oh, shit. It was late.

“Hey- hey, Sally Face. It’s Larry.”

“ _Hey! What’s up? Are you okay?_ ” Worry filtered into Sal’s voice.

“I’m good- are you? How’d the… Thing go?”

“ _It was long and boring and I fell asleep eating pancakes afterwards._ ” Amusement took over the worry. A snort escaped Larry as he shook his head.

“You need to get some rest, baby blue.”

“ _So do you, Larry Face._ ”

Larry Face. He liked that.

“… I’ll come by to see you tomorrow, alright?” Larry asked, smiling into the receiver.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Sal replied, attempting to muffle a yawn. “ _Yeah, please do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Larry._ ”

“Tomorrow. G’night, Sal.”

“ _Goodnight, Larry._ ”

Larry hung up the phone, smiling as he leaned against the wall beside the bedroom door. Ashley opened the door and poked her head in.

“Maple needs some clothes,” she whispered.

A sigh escaped Larry as he nodded and rose to his feet. “Alright…”

* * *

“Close call,” the man spoke as he crouched by the water. “Too close.”

“But,” the woman began, a smile curling her lips, showing too many teeth. “We know who they are now. And we know that they know. Or have an idea.”

“They shouldn’t even be here.”

“Calm down,” a scoff. “Besides, my contract isn’t up yet. We still have time.”

“I thought that _you_ were to obey _me_?”

“There’s nothing in there that says I can’t talk back.”

“I told you to _drown_ her.”

“I tried. Kind of hard to do when they don’t need to breathe. I thought you would have known that, since you _are_ one.”

The man didn’t respond as he stood, a hand rubbing at his throat. At the scar that marred the flesh. A failed decapitation. 

“Do your job.”

“Yes, sir.”


	13. Hell's Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corsets are difficult to put on (and take off) by yourself.  
> The Time Warp is always a fun dance.  
> Thriller is eternal.  
> Hell's Bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so, we're gonna go back to a once-a-week updating schedule since my classes started back up and my work is happening again bc Spring Break is over.  
> This chapter has me already planning my own Halloween costume, so that's fun.  
> This was fun to write! And the next chapter will show y'all the reason why this is rated E! If you've seen Queen of the Damned, you might have an idea about what's coming up.  
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos; it means the world to me.  
> I also had fanart and poetry written about this fic!! Which was HELLA RAD and I honest to God cried.  
> Fanart: https://poorexcuseforasideblog.tumblr.com/post/183653497861/some-bad-fan-art-for-my-current-favorite-fic-its  
> Poem(s): https://ask-rp-with-the-ribbon-witch-oka.tumblr.com/post/183658715909/have-you-ever-wondered-what-lies-beyond-bourbon  
> https://ask-rp-with-the-ribbon-witch-oka.tumblr.com/post/183665010039/whats-in-the-addison-sweet-tea
> 
>  
> 
> Y'all can find me on tumblr screaming about SF and this fic (bc I post snippets of chapters there!) on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to create anything that relates to this fic, whether that be a fic or poetry or a drawing or a cosplay, let me know! Send me a link so I can see, because I absolutely love that sort of thing!  
> Okay, without further ado, the chapter.

_“When you're strange, faces come out of the rain._  
_When you're strange, no one remembers your name.”_  
- _People Are Strange_ , The Doors

* * *

October 26th, 1991  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

The apartment had been completely canvased from top to bottom; anything of interest had been taken, photographs had been done, DNA samples collected. They had stayed in the hotel for three days, finally able to return to the apartment on Friday. It was a relief, being able to sleep in his own bed. Hotel beds weren’t that comfortable- at least, not at the hotel they had stayed at. 

They had been called back down to the station two more times and questioned again; Sal went back to school (and finally made up his French test, passing with a B); Henry returned to work. Life went on. But stepping back into the apartment yesterday had been… Odd. It had been cleaned up thanks to Lisa and Larry; a new rug had been placed beneath the coffee table, which Lisa had taken out and cleaned herself, bleaching and wiping it down. 

Sal had stood in the center of his room, looking everything over- it was his room, yes. But things had changed. It didn’t feel the same. He felt jittery.

He slept with a lamp on last night.

But today, he had to get ready. He had a party tonight. Todd would be swinging by in two hours to make sure he was ready. Which was what he was doing currently, standing in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. The new mask felt… Odd. It covered his face perfectly, its completely blank features staring back at him. It had cheekbones carved into it, a nose contoured; perfect for the Phantom.

But the rest of the outfit…

He’d caved.

He’d gotten Todd to take him to a costume shop and found a new costume. And a wig. A _wig_. He was committing to this part, damn it. But how was he going to get _into_ the dress by himself? He could ask his dad, but that… Would be an odd conversation. It wasn’t as if Henry didn’t approve- he did! A lot! But there were unspoken questions that Sal didn’t really want to answer just yet, not when he didn’t know the full answer himself. 

Which was why he was standing alone in the bathroom, a towel around his hips, trying to figure out how he was supposed to get _ready_. His hair first? At least, putting it up? An annoyed sigh left his lips as he shook his head.

He needed Todd.

Towel dropping, he quickly dressed in an old t-shirt whose logo had faded so much, it was impossible to tell what it had been. Legs (freshly shaved!) were covered with underwear and jeans. He slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him before shuffling down the hall and into the living room. “I’m gonna go get Todd. I need help.”

“Anything I can help with?” Henry asked, poking his head out of the kitchen. 

“Not this time, unless you know how wigs work.”

“I do not.”

“Didn’t think so. Be right back.”

Slipping out of the apartment, he took a moment to admire the day; the sun was bright in the sky, clouds were nowhere in sight, and a cool breeze danced through the air. Fall was finally descending on the south. Though, it was hard to tell- given that majority of the trees here were evergreens. 

He knocked three times on the door to the apartment Todd stayed in with his parents. Sal had met them once- they were… Ridiculously chill. Stoners. Which didn’t bother him at all, but Todd seemed almost embarrassed by them. Which would make sense, really- Sal understood that far too well.

The door opened, revealing Todd, half dressed. “… Do you want me to bring my stuff over?” The redhead asked, eyes squinting against the sunlight.

“Please.”

“Gimme a minute,” he disappeared back into the apartment, the door almost closing. Sal stood outside, leaning against the banister. The sound of voices drew his attention, and he turned, glancing down at the courtyard. 

“Sally! Dude! New mask?” CJ called, waving. Azaria stood behind him, her arms full of bags. 

“Costume.” Sal called back, giving a small wave. “Are you going to Maple’s?”

“Hell yeah, lil’ dude!” 

“Had t’go pick up some last-minute things,” Azaria explained, lifting the bags. “We’ll see you there?”

“Yeah!”

“Sweet!” Azaria flashed a grin before CJ began pushing himself towards their apartment. 

Sal turned away, watching as Todd appeared with the rest of his costume and makeup. “C’mon, let’s get you dressed.”

It took them two hours to get ready; Sal helped Todd make the cuts on his face look more realistic before styling his hair, straightening out the curls before spiking it messily. He looked eerily close to Chucky. 

Todd helped him get the dress on, tying the corset back before fussing with the skirts. “You get the back seat; this is _insane_.” He mumbled as he stood up and back, nodding.

The dress _was_ beautiful; a rich burgundy shade with an overbust corset, the waist cinched in, showing how small Sal actually was. The skirts flared out around his hips; it was really just one skirt and then a rigid piece of fabric that was a poor excuse for a petticoat, but it made the skirt look full. The skirt itself was tiered, falling to the floor without the heels. Yes, heels. 

He was _committed_.

“So?” Sal asked, turning in a circle. The wig was brown and full of curls, styled in a half up, half down look. He’d changed out his normal blue eye for one that had a completely black sclera lens, giving the look that touch of horror. Though, it was hard to see with the mask, but he knew it was there. 

“Honestly?” Todd began, a finger pressed to his chin. “Very feminine. If I didn’t know who you were, I’d honestly mistake you for a woman.”

“Perfect.” Sal gave two thumbs up. 

Together, the pair made their way out of the bedroom. Henry turned down the volume on the TV, studying his son and his son’s friend.

“I mean…” He began, brows raised in amusement. “You two certainly make a pair. Chucky and… If Christina became the Phantom.” A laugh spilled free, causing Todd to grin and Sal to strike a pose.

“Exactly!”

“Be safe, you two. Drive safe. You know what to do.” Henry had grown more cautious as of late. 

Sal couldn’t blame him.

“We will, Mr. Fisher.”

“I’ll be home by tomorrow- I’ll probably just stay over at Maple’s.” Sal had a bag packed of normal clothes sitting by the door. 

“Just… Be safe.” Henry repeated, brows pinching.

Sal crossed over to him, giving him a quick hug. “I will. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Grabbing the bag, he followed Todd out the door, closing it behind him. They needed to make sure chug was ready, and then, Todd would be driving them out to Maple’s. Neil would, but he was already out at Maple’s house, helping her put the finishing touches on her decorations. It made Sal nervously excited; the last party hadn’t been that good. But this one?

He had a good feeling about it.

“Sal? Holy _shit_!” Chug exclaimed as he left his apartment, eyes wide. His own makeup was, surprisingly, _really_ good. The white face paint wasn’t streaky at all. He made a good Joker. “You’s lookin’ like you belong up on de stage! Or on a float! Or at a ball!” Chug grinned, shaking his head. “Maple’s gonna _love_ it.”

“Thanks.” Sal hiked up his skirt, careful to not step in any cracks in the sidewalk. Todd and Chug both took an arm and led him out to the parking lot.

“Sal?” Came a voice. The trio turned, taking in the sight of Azaria; she had her hair in dread locks, deep red twined within the braids. She’d also put in red colored contacts and a pair of vampire fangs. Her own outfit was impressive; a corset top, fitted jeans, and a black trench coat. She had a pair of “vampire bite marks” on her neck. “Dude, you look incredible!”

“Thanks!” Todd and Chug released his arms, allowing him to turn in a circle, the skirt flowing out around his legs. “It’s a really nice dress. You look amazing, too.”

“This? Naw. It’s simple. You? Incredible.” She reached out to touch the curly wig. “Y’all headin’ over to Maple’s?”

“Yeah,” Todd raised his keys. “You need a ride?”

“Naw,” she shook her head before gesturing to a black van. “I gotta get CJ loaded up, and Sierra has to finish her hair. I’ll see y’all there, though!” She spoke as she backed towards the van.

“See you there!”

Sal clambered into the back of Todd’s van, stretching out as Chug took the front seat. “So, how far away is Maple’s family home?”

“Out near LaPlace, so’s it’s bout a good half hour.” Chug replied as Todd started up the van, pulling out of the parking lot. “It’s a nice place; it used t’be a plantation house.”

“Plantation?” Sal echoed, brows raising. “So, it’s big.”

“Really big,” Todd agreed, nodding as he turned onto 610. “It’s surrounded by woods, but no swamps. At least, not on the property. It does have a bayou access; they have a pontoon boat somewhere.”

“… So, we’re gonna be out in the middle of nowhere again?”

“At least we have indoor plumbing this time.”

* * *

October 26th, 1991  
7:30 p.m.

* * *

The drive out to Maple’s was full of laughter and singing/screaming along to the radio. Sal talked about home, about Halloweens in Jersey, and told the tale of the Jersey Devil. Chug told him the story of the Axman. 

Then, they turned down a dirt road.

“Maple’s house is up yonder,” Chug said, pointing towards a break in the trees, where light spilled free into the night.

There were already trucks and cars and bikes parked along the road. 

But that was nothing compared to what was before him.

Todd parked the van and hopped out to help Sal out- who needed it, really, because he couldn’t tear his gaze from the manor. Two floors high, the manor spread out wide, with a balcony on the second that acted as a roof for the wraparound porch on the first floor. White pillars stretched from floor to the roof. It was painted white, the roof black, the shutters also black. There were hints of Gothic Revival architecture throughout.

And it was covered in Halloween decorations.

Orange and black streamers circled the pillars and hung from the balcony, just brushing the heads of those who walked in. The fountain in front had been decorated, too; the water dyed red, resembling blood weeping from the angel’s eyes and out of her mouth. There were tombstones place around the yard- not just the front, he noted, but along the side, too. Torches had been placed along the walkway, lighting the path. 

More light spilled from within the house, out onto the yard. Music pumped through speakers, filling the area, almost drowning out the sound of crickets and toads. _The Number of the Beast_ by Iron Maiden, Sal noted. 

“Shall we?” Todd asked, smiling as he offered his arm. Chug took hold of Sal’s other, and together, the trio made their way up the walkway. The front door was wide open, as were the windows all along the first floor. The steps up to the house had been lined with pumpkins, expertly carved.

“This place is amazing,” Sal whispered, shaking his head. 

“I know, right?” Came a familiar voice, causing the trio to turn. 

Ashley- or, who he assumed was Ashley, stood behind them. She wore a blonde wig and a white gown. “Y’all look amazing!” She gushed, crossing over to them. “All of y’all! And Sal!” She shook her head, grinning, as she took in the dress. “Lemme guess- Christine?”

“As the Phantom.” Sal added in, nodding.

“About time you showed up.” Neil spoke up, and Sal heard Todd make a sound akin to choking. Turning around, he quickly saw _why_. He was shirtless, with a blonde wig on, and in… Golden booty shorts. 

Rocky Horror Picture Show?

Todd’s cheeks were a bright shade of red, Sal noted in amusement. “What are- I- what?” He managed to stammer out, shaking his head.

“C’mon inside!” 

And in they went, with Ashley having taken over Chug and Todd’s job, her arm linked with his. The inside of the house was just as amazing; a dual staircase led up to the second floor, with a large chandelier hanging down between them. Red streamers had been hung from it, almost resembling blood. 

More streamers wrapped around the bannisters. The rugs were all a deep red. And there were people- a lot of people. More than what was at the party a few months ago. The music faded out before a single guitar began. Drums and a cowbell followed in.

_“All our times have come; here but now they're gone. Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are…”_

“So- Janet, right?” Sal asked as Ashley led him into the living room, which had been converted into a dance floor. 

“Yeah! Maple always chooses us a theme, an’ we git t’choose who we wanna be!” She replied over the music. “Wait till ya see Larry!”

Larry.

Oh, shit.

If he wasn’t Rocky, who was he? Riff Raff? Eddie?

He got his answer moments later.

For there Larry stood in the center of the dance floor. He’d forgone any wig, someone having curled his hair for him instead, but he’d done the makeup. The black, thin brows- his own had been concealed somehow- and the dark eyeshadow. And the red lipstick. The pale face. Sal’s brain was short-circuiting. He hadn’t gone for the dress- no. Oh, no. He’d gone for the _other_ outfit. The black vest that was more lingerie than anything, the pearl necklace, the…

Oh. Oh, Sal was glad he was wearing a dress that poofed out at the waist.

Black latex booty shorts- there wasn’t a better name for them- and fishnets. And heels. _Heels_. Sure, Sal was wearing heels, too, but Larry was in heels and he was so tall and handsome and had become sin on legs. 

“Oh my God.” He whispered, and Ashley laughed.

“I know.”

“… If he’s Dr. Frank-N-Furter, then who’s Maple? And Robert?”

“They’s in the kitchen. C’mon,” she tugged him away from staring at Larry, across the hall, through the formal dining room. But he paused, looking at the spread on the table; all fake, he knew, but the severed head and fingers in the punch and glass of eyeballs looked eerily real. “Robert’s _real_ good with special effects.” Ashley explained.

And then, the kitchen door opened.

Robert was dressed in a black leather vest with metal spikes on the shoulders and cheetah print, a black tank top, and skinny jeans. His normal mohawk had been dyed temporarily black and styled to resemble a classic Greaser look. His eyes were rimmed with black, and he had a saxophone- an actual saxophone- strapped to him. “Eddie?”

“You got it, lil’ dude!” Robert answered with a grin. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

Maple turned then, her silver hair nowhere to be seen. Instead, she wore a frizzy magenta wig, her face paled dramatically by makeup, dark eyeshadow encircling her eyes, and a vivid red coloring her lips. She wore a maid’s uniform, or, similar to one. It was open in the front, stretching to her sternum, showing the lacy edges of a bra. “And Magenta!” She added, smiling as she crossed over to him, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you could make it, sugar! You look absolutely amazin’!”

“I’m glad I could make it, too- you guys all look… Amazing.”

“Aw, shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” came a Texan accent. Sal turned, taking in the sight of Travis. His hair had been dyed temporarily a dark brown, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He wore a pair of jeans instead of just his underwear, and a white shirt, unbuttoned.

Sal didn’t want to admit that he was in rather good shape.

“B… Brad?” Sal struggled to remember the name.

“You got it. You seen Larry yet?”

“Who _hasn’t_ seen Larry?” Larry’s voice filtered in as he entered, pausing at the sight of Sal.

“Oh, well, _hello_ there.” He purred, lip curling up into a smirk as he took in the sight of Sal. And what a sight, indeed; blue hair tucked out of sight beneath a curly brown wig, a pristine white mask, and a dress that easily outdid any other ballgown he’d seen tonight. Sal was _beautiful_. More than beautiful. Larry couldn’t think of a word that described him. “Come up to th’ _lab_.” He murmured as he stalked over, a finger sliding beneath Sal’s chin, tilting his head up as Larry leaned down. “An’ see what’s on th’ _slab_.” 

“Am I shivering with antici…” Sal trialed off, heterochromatic hues glued on brown ones. “-pation?”

Larry’s lips broke into a grin as he pulled Sal into a hug. “Aw, yes. Yes, I like this one.”

“C’mon, lets dance!” Ashley grabbed Larry’s arm, Larry grabbed Sal’s arm, and Sal grabbed Travis.

Robert and Maple laughed as the train of people wove their way to the living room as the opening notes to Time Warp began.

“Oh, no,” Sal shook his head, trying to get out of line, but Larry kept him there. “Larry, I don’t dance…”

“Everyone can do the Time Warp! The instructions are in the song!” Larry replied, crimson lips pulled into a bright smile. “C’mon, baby blue! Let’s do the time warp again!” He sang.

They took a jump to the left, and then a step to the right. Sal placed his hands on his hips, brought his knees in tights, and did a pelvic thrust.

He couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him as almost everyone joined in, dancing, jumping, turning, thrusting. It was _ridiculous_ but so, so much fun. Even Travis was grinning and laughing, his eyes bright.

Sal felt his heart skip a beat.

Oh, he was so fucked.

* * *

“So, explain.” Larry demanded as he plopped down onto the porch swing beside Sal. The teen had wanted some air, being around so many people having made him anxious.

“Explain what, exactly?”

“The costume.”

“Christine from Phantom of the Opera, except she’s the Phantom.” Sal replied, shrugging.

“So, you like opera?”

“I like all types of music.”

“Really?” Larry leaned back, his long legs able to reach the porch floor and slowly push the swing. “Metal?”

“Yeah.”

 _“Nice.”_ Grinning, he nodded his head. “What else?”

Sal shifted, kicking his feet, watching as the skirt bumped with each kick. “Classical is good for studying. Rock is good for everything.”

“And opera?”

“Opera’s good for drama.”

Larry hummed, arms crossing behind his head, making his torso stretch out. Sal’s gaze was drawn down, taking in the sight of ribs pressing against rich, tan skin, abdominals prominent, showing just _how_ in shape he was. And below his naval began a trail of brown hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of the shorts. “So, you’s a theater kid?”

“Nah.” Sal shook his head, the false curls bouncing with the movement. “I like theater, sure, but I was never _in_ theater.”

“Why not?”

“I’m fairly certain they’d put me in the costume or set design part.”

“They’d be missin’ out on a good actor. And a good singer.”

Sal blushed beneath the mask and shook his head but didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he let his head fall back as he listened to the music. _House of the Rising Sun_ by The Animals was playing through the speakers now.

“So…” Larry trialed off, gaze trained on the wooden boards over their head. “How’s yer dad?”

“He’s holding up. He’s… More cautious, now. We have new locks installed on all the windows and on the door.”

“Yeah? Good.”

“Mhm. He’s been more careful around me, too. Scared he’s gonna, I don’t know, set me off or somethin’.”

“Well,” a shrug from Larry, “he’s a good guy, yer dad.”

“He’s got his rough spots.” Sal countered, watching as a couple stumbled out of the house, giggling to themselves. 

“Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Let’s go raid Maple’s kitchen, bluebird.”

* * *

October 26th, 1991  
10:45 p.m.

* * *

The party was in full swing; Sal had danced more within the last few hours than he ever had before in his _life_. Maple’s music was good, switching from classic Halloween songs to metal, and then back again. When Michael Jackson’s _Thriller_ had come on, it felt like the house shook with the excited cheers.

It didn’t matter if they bumped into one another- everyone was laughing and dancing and it was _nice_.

But the dress was _hot_. And the wig was starting to get annoying. 

“Your clothes are in the van if you want to go get them?” Todd offered, head tilting to the side. “I can go with you?”

“Nah, it’s fine. The van isn’t that far away.” Sal shrugged it off, giving a small wave. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t get lost!” Todd called as Sal walked off, weaving his way through the crowd. 

As the night continued on, more people began to show up. Drink was flowing, food was plentiful. There were a few people hanging out within the front yard; he could see Azaria talking with two others; one was dressed as a princess, the other as a clown. Sal didn’t linger.

The night was peaceful; a breeze wandered through the trees, creating a soft roar in the distance. Crickets continued to chirp despite the late hour; he could hear an owl somewhere, hooting. There were so many vehicles parked in the yard, in the drive, along the road. But no one was out here; everyone was up closer to the house. The lights didn’t stretch this far; he was using the light of the full moon to guide him.

Todd’s van was unlocked, thankfully. Sal jerked the door open, sliding it down so he could climb in. His bag was… _Somewhere_. “Where in the fuck did I throw it?” He asked himself, blindly reaching in the floorboard, finding old candy bar wrappers and a notebook, but not his bag. Grunting, he climbed in further, his fingers just brushing the strap of his bag. Success! A grin spread across his lips as he tugged once, twice, three times before it came free. He nearly fell out into the ditch, but he managed to keep his balance. Humming a little victory tune, he held the bag close, ready to close the van door.

 _SNAP_.

Sal froze, eyes wide as he stared at the interior of the van. The forest was behind him. A deer. That’s all it was. A deer. Louisiana had deer, right? Right. Totally. Just a-

_**CRRRRACK!** _

Sal let out a noise akin to a squeak as he slammed the door shut on Todd’s van and took off in a sprint. He was glad the heels were short, tea length, because he tore ass getting back to the drive.

Something had broken a _branch_ out there. Maybe it had been a dead branch. Maybe it was a very, very big deer. A buck. How big could bucks get? Bucks were the male deer, right? And a doe was a female? 

“Sal?” Azaria called, jogging over to him. “You’s alright, sweetie?” She asked, an arm coming around his shoulders.

“I-I…” He shook his head, a hand on his heart. “I’m fine. I just got spooked. I think there’s a deer and it stepped on a twig and it just spooked me, that’s all.” It was a rushed explanation, but speaking it out loud had his heart slowing down.

“Oh, yeah. Maple sees deer ‘round here all the time.” Azaria replied with a quick smile that had Sal’s shoulders slumping in relief. She led him back inside, distracting him with an easy conversation about the Phantom of the Opera; her favorite song was _Music of the Night_ , and she’d seen it on Broadway once. 

“Go upstairs; there’s a master bath in the left wing.” She guided him, watching as he nodded and slipped up the stairs.

Larry and Ashley quietly sidled up behind her. “Somethin’s out in the woods.” She murmured, not bothering to turn as she watched Sal look to his left, then his right, obviously confused on which way to go. “Somethin’ tracked Sal, I think.” 

“Same thing?”

“Dunno. Sal said it cracked a twig. But I heard th’ branch break.”

Larry made a noise of annoyance. Ashley hummed.

“I’ll go do a quick round,” she offered. 

“Good idea. Don’t go in the woods, though. Not alone.” Azaria replied, turning to study the pair of young vampires. Much younger than she was. Maple was even younger than her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Larry, go check on Sal. He’s shaken up, the poor babe.” She left them, then, drifting with otherworldly elegance to the kitchen, no doubt to find some “barbeque” that Robert had “cooked”. 

Larry gave Ashley’s shoulder a quick squeeze before wandering upstairs, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the carpet on the stairs. Though, they wouldn’t have been heard with Van Halen’s _Runnin’ With The Devil_ playing. No one was upstairs; Maple had clear rules on that. Only a select few- himself, Robert, Maple, Neil, Travis, and Ashley- could come up. But everyone was downstairs right now; the entire top floor was empty, aside from himself and Sal.

Sal.

A smirk curled his lips as he made his way towards the left wing, where Maple’s master bath was.

“I’m fine.” Came the voice of Sal, which had Larry jolting, eyes widening in surprise. Sal stood in the center of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. “Azaria sent you up here. I’m fine.”

“Aw, you really gonna send me back down there, Sally Face?” Larry teased, sauntering forward. With the heels he wore, he towered over Sal. 

He didn’t want to admit that this knowledge excited him.

“And if I do, Doctor?” Sal countered, voice slow. 

“I might cry.” 

A snort escaped the masked teen. “You can help me get out of this, then. I can’t untie a corset on my own.”

Larry grinned as he reached past him, opening up the door he’d been standing before. “Maple’s master bath,” he stated, pushing the door open wide to reveal the room.

Sal let out a noise of surprise at the large room. It was easily the size of his apartment, with a large tub pressed back into the far-left corner. A chandelier hung over the bathtub. A shower was in the opposite corner, glass surrounding it. A vanity with two sinks took up the remainder of the left wall. A window was set into the wall between the bathtub and the shower, showing a perfect view of the woods behind the house. 

The floor was marble tile, the walls were a soft ivory. All the metal in the room was a matte black.

It was _beautiful_.

The sound of the door closing pulled him free from his thoughts. He turned, studying Larry curiously.

“Did you know,” Larry began as he stepped closer, “that women in th’ Victorian era took over an _hour_ to git into their dresses, ‘cause of how th’ layers had to sit, and th’ lacin’ of a corset.” 

“I didn’t know that.” Sal made a face beneath the mask. “I’m glad that I didn’t have to do that tonight.”

Larry hummed, gesturing for Sal to turn around. “Me, too. I don’t think I could git ya outta somethin’ _that_ complicated.” The sound of Van Halen faded out, replaced by the sound of a church bell. _Hells Bells_ by AC/DC. 

Sal reached up and back, hands sliding beneath the wig’s curls, carefully pulling bobby pin after bobby pin free. Larry watched, a brow raised, as the wig was finally pulled free, revealing a wig cap and vivid blue hair beneath. Sal wasted no time, tugging the wig cap off and shaking his hair free. It had gotten long, falling almost below his shoulder blades. 

Larry loved it.

He reached out, finger tips brushing along the edge of Sal’s shoulder, tracing the harsh line up the side of his neck before trailing along his hairline, pushing the turquoise locks aside. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ \- but he did. He leaned forward and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the back of Sal’s neck. And the gasp that left the younger had his eyes closing. 

Deft fingers began to work on the golden bow at the base of the corset, tugging it free as he continue to press lingering kisses along his shoulders, his teeth coming out to scrape at the pale skin. He had freckles, he noted; they fell along his shoulders, barely visible unless he was this close. 

He looked up, lips hovering over a pale shoulder, and caught Sal’s gaze in the mirror.

Sal’s breath caught. Larry was _gorgeous_ in that moment; his pupils were absolutely blown, and the look in his eyes was nothing short of a predator staring down their prey. And Sal was that prey, and he would go down willingly. The red lipstick left stains on his shoulder reminiscent of blood, and for a split second, he had the absolutely insane thought of Larry being a vampire, drinking his blood. 

It made a snort escape him.

“What’s so funny?” Larry asked as he nuzzled the skin behind Sal’s ear, pressing closer the looser the corset became. _“I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain; I'm comin' on like a hurricane. My lightning's flashing across the sky- you're only young but you're gonna die.”_ He sang softly into his ear, voice nothing more than a soft rumble.

A shudder danced down Sal’s spine.

The corset fell free; he couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh as the tightness in his ribcage finally released. Larry wasted no time, finding the zipper for the skirt and unzipping it quickly, leaving Sal in nothing more than a pair of…

Of underwear that were more lace than fabric. And heels. And his legs were smooth and hairless.

Larry’s brain short circuited.

“So, what’re you gonna do, now?” Sal taunted, stepping out of the skirt and backing towards the sinks. “Gonna send some black sensations up and down my spine?”

Something in Larry snapped. He stalked forward, his fingers gripping onto Sal’s hips before he lifted him up and onto the counter, slotting himself between his thighs. Milky white, unblemished; his own tan hands looked so large compared to his small frame. 

Larry leaned forward, pressing more lingering kisses down Sal’s throat, across his collar bones, nipping at the thin skin there. It drew a wavering gasp from Sal, whose fingers had reached up and were working on getting the mask off. Larry let him work on that as he tugged him closer; the sink was at the perfect height for Sal’s legs to wrap around his hips.

The mask fell to the floor.

Sal’s lips were on his in the next moment.

Scarred fingers tangled in brunette locks as teeth clashed. Tanned hands drifted down, gripping pale thighs tightly, enough to garner a whimper. Tongues met and twined; hair was pulled, bringing forth a gasping laugh from Larry. 

“I’ve already made a mess of you. Look at that…” Larry taunted, pulling back to gaze at the trail of lipstick stains that covered Sal’s shoulders, neck, chest; it was smeared across both of their lips.

“Then make more of a mess of me.” Sal whispered, a smile curling his gnarled lips upwards. “I’m all yours.”

Larry groaned. “Oh, baby blue,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

* * *

Thunder rolled in the distance, echoing through the forest. The wind kicked up, a roar filling the air as the trees began to dance with the force. Lightning flashed across the sky as the moon began to disappear behind heavy thunderheads. 

Twigs snapped beneath foot as they made their way forward, towards the noise. Racket. Grinding. Loud, too loud, too much.

Thirsty. Hungry. Their hands shook. Their stomach growled. They turned, listening.

Lunged.

The deer had no time to bellow out a dying cry; it’s neck broken quickly, it’s stomach slashed open by black nails that were cracked and gnarled from clawing out of a wooden box, out of the ground.

They drank. And drank. And ate. And ate.

_“Hell's bells; Satan's comin' to you._  
Hell's bells; he's ringing them now.  
Hell's bells; the temperature's high.  
Hell's bells; across the sky.  
Hell's bells; they're takin' you down.  
Hell's bells; they're draggin' you around.  
Hell's bells; gonna split the night.  
Hell's bells; there's no way to fight, yeah…” 


	14. Hell's Bells, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Started Out With A Kiss, How Did It End Up Like This?  
> Frogs are sort of creepy.  
> Sliced meats.  
> Surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck deciphering what happens in this chapter with that summary. You know how I said I'd be updating once a week? That was a lie. I'll update whenever I get a chapter done because I have 0 impulse control. Anywho, trigger warnings for gore do apply in this chapter. There's a few scenes that are kind of gross. And they only get more gross in the future chapters, honestly. So, consider this the tip of the iceberg. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for commenting, leaving kudos, and reading this!! I'm glad so many people are liking it, and hearing from you all just warms my heart so much.  
> You can find me on tumblr @ https://fakexface.tumblr.com   
> I scream about this fic and other things regularly there.   
> If anyone happens to write/draw/cosplay/etc. anything to do with this fic, lemme know!! I'd absolutely LOVE to see!!  
> Anywho, ON WE GO.

_“Hush little baby don't say a word, and never mind that noise you heard._  
 _It's just the beasts under your bed, in your closet, in your head.”_  
- _Enter Sandman_ , Metallica

* * *

October 26th, 1991  
11:30 p.m.

* * *

The bath was _big_ , Sal noted. Bigger than he’d thought; if he sat down in it, the water would rise to his chest. And the party downstairs was going strong, music still rumbling through the floorboards. And his clothes were in a pile on the floor, and Larry’s clothes were slowly joining them. He was shirt… Vest? Less, now; the heels had long since been discarded.

Sal vaguely knew that this wasn’t right- he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ , but he did it anyway, throwing caution to the wind. The water was already running, rose petals floating along the surface. The bathroom was beginning to warm up, steam lingering in the air. “So, important question,” Larry began, turning to face the younger. He’d pulled his hair up into a bun at the top of his head, which did absolutely _nothing_ to hide the line of hickies that Sal had left along his neck.

“Answer.” Sal responded, fiddling with the towel he’d wrapped around himself.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Sal very nearly dropped the bottle of body wash into the tub. “How forward of you,” he accused lightly, before shaking his head. “No. I mean- it’s been a _while_ , but nah.”

“Really?” Larry leaned against the sink, brows raised. “Who was the lucky girl?”

“Guy.”

“… Who was the lucky guy?”

“… Someone from Jersey.” Sal shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not important.”

Larry didn’t press. Instead, he moved over to Sal, reaching down to cup his chin, lifting his head up slowly. “Well, don’t think of him. It’s only you, an’ me. That’s all.” He murmured before leaning down, pressing a slow kiss to already kiss-swollen lips. Sal hummed, reaching up to cup Larry’s cheeks, brushing over the sharp cheekbones. 

“The tub’s gonna overflow.” Sal whispered, pulling back to stop the flow of heated water. 

“Shall we?” Larry grinned, winking.

“Maple’s gonna kill you.”

“Oh, no, baby blue. She’s gonna kill both o’ us. You’s takin’ this bath, too!” His arms wrapped around Sal’s waist, lifting him. Sal let out a wheeze, clinging to Larry as the taller set him into the warm water. A hiss escaped him at the sudden heat.

“You’re still wearing your… Shorts?” Sal glanced down, still unsure of what to call them, exactly.

“… Oh.” Larry let out a snort, looking down at himself. His fishnets were still on, too. “Well- lemme fix that.” He stepped back out of the tub, ignoring the laughter that bubbled up from Sal. He struggled with the shorts for a moment before pulling them, and the fishnets, down, revealing…

Skin.

Sal let out a noise akin to a wheeze, or maybe a choke. It was an odd sound. Larry couldn’t help but grin.

Slowly, he settled back down in the water across from Sal. This tub was by far his _favorite_. It was big enough that he could stretch his legs out completely and _still_ have room. Leaning his head back against the edge, his eyes slid shut. Sal was moving- doing… Something. He didn’t know, didn’t really care that much. The water was blissfully warm and the room smelled of roses and vanilla and was warm.

“I’m never leaving this tub.” Sal decided, sinking down, down, down- until his chin was touching the water. It was _nice_. 

“No?” Larry asked, cracking open his eyes to take in the sight. “Not even for food?”

“… Good point.”

* * *

Outside, thunder rumbled, signaling an oncoming storm. The wind grew stronger, causing the streamers hanging from the second floor to whip around in the wind.

“Should we shut this down early?” Robert asked, leaning against the railing on the back porch. Maple had changed from the maid outfit and into a white gown, the ends of which were torn and shredded; an underbust corset wrapped around her waist. A cliché spirit costume, but she’d added in a few extra details. 

Her gaze was trained on the woods, tracking Ashley’s figure as she made a slow circle around the border. “Not yet.” She glanced up towards the sky, watching as lightning flickered through the clouds. “I wanna see what’s gonna happen.”

“Maple…” Robert murmured, brows furrowing. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I think we’re going to have a visitor tonight.”

“A visitor?”

She turned, flipping the wig’s hair from her shoulder. “Shotgun’s in the gun cabinet in the office, right?”

“Yes- wait, what, why-” Robert trailed after her, back into the house, the screen door shutting behind them.

* * *

Sal hummed, head tilting back as his eyes closed. A hand slowly crept up his left thigh, blunt nails scraping the delicate, sensitive skin. It brushed against his dick, prompting a surprised noise to leave his throat, before it crept higher, up his stomach, his sternum, his chest, wrapping around his throat, not squeezing- not yet.

“You look so pretty like this,” Larry murmured, hovering over him. “Flushed an’ needy an’ _hard_.” He leaned down, brushing a kiss to his lips, pulling back the moment Sal began to respond. “I could take you right here, right now. Make a mess outta you. Have you screamin’ my name loud enough that everyone down stairs can hear you.”

Below, the beginning notes of _Enter Sandman_ began to play.

“Who says I’ll be the one screaming?” Sal countered a bit breathlessly, a shudder dancing down his spine as Larry’s other hand wrapped around him. “You- you could be just as loud.”

A grin spread across his lips. “I could, you’re right.” Larry bit down on his shoulder, prompting for a moan to finally tumble free. “But I’d rather hear _you_ sing fo’ me.” He began to stroke him slowly, feeling the way he tensed beneath him. “An’ I bet you want that, too, don’t you?”

Sal huffed, brows pinching as he reached out, clinging to Larry’s shoulder, blunt nails digging in. “We need… We need lube. Right? Yeah, lube.” He babbled, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Larry’s hand paused, and he let the words sink in. They _would_ need lube. And a condom.

“Stay righ’ here.”

* * *

Ashley stood at the edge of the dock, staring at the water with a deep frown. Sure, it was common for frogs to swarm when a storm would approach. But… 

This many? Covering the pontoon boat? 

Slowly, she backed away.

The air seemed to crackle, and she threw herself back, back pedaling quickly onto solid ground as lightning struck the bayou. There seemed to be a momentary delay before the water _erupted_ , shooting upwards a good ten feet before collapsing down. The pontoon boat rocked dangerously, causing the frogs that had taken up home on it to jump ship. 

She watched in awe as the bayou was filled with waves, sticks and logs and moss surfacing. 

She didn’t wait to see what else came up as she turned tail and began to sprint back to the house. She needed to tell Maple anyways- what she’d seen. The footprints. The blood. The fencing that had been broken.

The bones.

* * *

Todd shifted, leaning his head against Neil’s shoulder as they walked. The air was practically _humming_ with the promise of lightning. The wind was gaining strength the longer they walked. The trial carved through Maple’s property, curving away from the bayou and further into the forest. 

“Whattya think ‘bout Sal an’ Larry?” Neil asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had formed between them. 

“Sal likes him.” Todd replied, reaching up to push his glasses up his nose. “I can’t speak for Larry, but I can for Sal. And Sal… Sal really likes him. I don’t doubt that they’ll end up together.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

Neil nodded, gaze unfocused as the path curved. The woods were lovely, he noted; no swamps were within Maple’s property- at least, none that they were aware of. There was, of course, the bayou access. But here, the woods were solid. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and the occasional flap of and owl’s wings pierced the night, melting into the sound of a classical piece that was just _barely_ heard filtering through the trees.

Maple always did love Camille Saint-Saëns.

The sound of a twig snapping had them pausing.

“What was that?” Todd asked softly, glancing around. Neil carried a knife with him at all times, but… The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a thunderous **boom** ricocheted through the woods, causing the pair to jump and cling to one another. Birds both of the night and day took flight, leaving their nests in a moment of fear. “Lightning just struck ground.”

Neil nodded, but his attention was trained on the woods surrounding them. “We need to head back to the party,” he murmured, turning Todd around slowly, casually, despite the tension that caused his muscles to coil tightly, fight or flight kicking in. They managed to take a few more steps before the audible sound of labored breathing could be heard. Neil didn’t speak, instead grabbing hold of Todd’s hand and taking off in a sprint, pulling his boyfriend along.

Stumbling footsteps followed. Todd let out a terrified whimper.

* * *

Pleasure danced across his skin in delightful jolts as Larry kept the pace even: strong, quick thrusts in, slow on the drag out. It had soft cries escaping his lips with each thrust. His eyes were squeezed shut.

Larry groaned behind him, resting his forehead against his shoulder. His hands gripped Sal’s hips tightly, pulling him back with each thrust. Sweat clung to their skin, along with rose petals. The bath water below them was quickly forming waves the move they moved. The more he moved in Sal. He could taste him; salt, cinnamon, something bitter. Bitter, wrong, wrong, _wrong_. 

He didn’t dare break the skin when he bit down on the shoulder blade before him.

“Fuck, don’t _stop_ ,” The blue haired teen groaned, head falling as the brunette thrusted slowly. So close, he was _so_ close. His hands shook as he braced himself against the wall. His knees threatened to give out on him. But he still pushed his hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust.

A kiss was pressed to the top notch of his spine. “That’s it, baby blue. C’mon, _viens pour moi_ , Sal.” He whispered, his own hips stuttering. Desperate, so close. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the bathroom as desperate whines and grunts joined in, building a chorus of sin. 

Sal whined, eyes opening, staring at the water beneath them. Blinking. Once, twice.

Blood. Blood. They were standing in blood. Blood stained the ivory tub. Blood clung to his legs. A choked off cry of horror and pleasure left him as he came, painting the wall. He shook, confusion and horror and shock mingling as Larry groaned and came, filling the condom.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the bathroom. The wall was red. Dripping with blood. His own skin was covered with it.

“Stop- stop, Larry, _stop_!” He cried. The other quickly stilled, eyes wide. “The bath- what’s-”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence, for the sound of a gunshot going off had them both jolting. Larry’s head snapped up, gaze trained on the window. Sal shook in his arms, blinking away the haze that had filled his mind. His gaze drifted down- the water was… Clear. No blood. 

Rose petals.

Not blood.

_Not blood?_

“You okay?” Larry asked softly as he reached down, carefully pulling free from Sal. The younger nodded, leaning against the wall. “What happened?”

“I… I dunno.” Sal shook his head, listening as Larry left the tub, no doubt to discard of the used condom. “I… Blood?”

“Blood?!” Larry spun around, nearly slipping on the marble floor. He didn’t _smell_ anything. “Did I hurt you? Shit, Sal, please tell me I didn’t hurt you-”

“No!” Slowly, he lowered himself to the edge of the tub, wincing at the dull pain that came from that movement. “No, you didn’t. I think my eyes just played a trick on me? The bath water just looked…”

“Like blood.” Larry finished, brow furrowed as he grabbed a wash cloth and made his way back over. “… Does that… Happen often?”

“Seeing things? No.”

He didn’t respond, instead sitting on the opposite edge. 

“… Did we hear a gunshot?”

That had Larry stiffening.

The music downstairs had stopped.

“ _Shit_.” He reached over for the towels that Sal had, thankfully, set out earlier, quickly drying himself off before handing one to the other. “I’m sorry, I know how important aftercare is, but-”

“This is more important.” Sal finished, drying himself off, wincing slightly. Larry caught that.

“I did hurt you, didn’t I?”

“No- no, it’s just… You’re uh… Big. Bigger than I’m used to?” Sal tried not to show the embarrassment, but his chest flushed, creeping up his neck. Larry snickered.

He helped Sal dress carefully, taking the time to press gentle kiss to any skin he could reach. The clothes, however, ended up getting in the way; a black oversized sweater with a wide turtle neck, red jeans, and a pair of black Converse. Sal pulled his prosthetic back on.

“Where should I keep the costume?” He asked, glancing towards the gown as Larry dressed in his Frank-N-Furter costume once again.

“Just keep it in here. An… An’ stay behind me, alright?” A nod.

Larry unlocked the bathroom door before peeking out, glancing around the hallway. Empty. Downstairs, he could hear the murmur of voices. He reached back, grabbing Sal’s hand, and lead the younger out of the bathroom. Did they drain the tub? Or clean up the mess they created? He couldn’t really remember.

That was a problem to think on later.

“What’s happenin’?” He asked as they reached the bottom floor. Azaria was beside him in an instant, gripping his arm. 

“We need you.” She whispered, glancing back towards Sal.

The sound of a scream piercing the air had everyone pausing.

Larry dropped Sal’s hand and took off, shoving his way through the crowd as Travis joined him, the pair bounding out of the house and into the backyard. Maple stood, a sawed off shotgun in hand, aiming towards the woods.

“What’s happenin’?” He repeated as he nearly ran into Robert.

“Todd an’ Neil are in the woods.”

“Why are they in the _woods_?”

“Because they’re _idiots_.” Robert hissed, shaking his head. “And something is in there with them. Ashley came an’ got us, told us that somethin’s not right. One of the perimeter fences was fucked- torn from the ground and twisted. She found…” He shook his head.

“Robert,” Maple broke in, her gaze never wavering from the tree line. “Go tell everyone the party’s over. Tell them that coyotes are in the area an’ we don’t want no one gettin’ hurt.” 

“Roger.” Robert jogged back towards the house, leaving the trio to stand and watch.

Larry grinded his teeth, watching, waiting. “What do _you_ think is out there?” He asked after a moment. 

“Honestly?” Maple shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.”

“What made that scream?”

“Whatever is out there.”

“… Let’s pray it’s just Papa Legba.”

“I don’ t’ink it’s Papa Legba.” Ashley piped in as she jogged over.

It was then that Larry realized Travis had another shotgun in his hands.

“I feel vastly unarmed.”

“You don’ getta gun.”

“I’m insulted.”

Maple cocked her gun. “They’s comin’.”

“I’m gonna go meet ‘em.” Ashley had changed, Larry noted; she wore jeans and a KISS t-shirt. She took off in a sprint, crossing the yard, slowing down part way. 

What was she doing?

“Where’s Neil?”

A chill danced across the remaining three. Travis raised his gun, but didn’t cock it.

Someone made the music start again. The same classical piece; _Danse Macabre_.

“He’s still in there!” Todd cried as Ashley reached him. Larry took off in a dead run, long legs carrying him across the yard; out of the corner of his eye, he could see party goers leaving. Azaria was helping Seirra wheel CJ back to the van, handing her keys off.

Sal was still inside, hopefully being distracted by Chug and Robert.

“Where’d you leave him?” Larry asked as he looked Todd over. He wasn’t injured, but he was terrified. Shaking, he shook his head. 

“I, I don’t know. One moment, he was ahead of me, the next, he was shoving me and telling me to run. And I- I ran, and then the scream, and I don’t…” He trailed off, tears filling his eyes as he clamped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, God.”

“Get ‘im inside, Ashley.” Larry ordered. “And keep him inside.”

“On it.” She wrapped her arm around Todd’s shoulders and began leading him back across the yard. He watched them for a moment before turning towards the woods. Footsteps behind him had him pausing.

“I’m comin’ with you. You ain’t got a gun or a knife, or _anythin’_.” Travis stated, the shotgun slung over his shoulder. “An’ I got a bad feelin’.”

“Let’s hope we get there in time.”

Together, they made their way into the woods. The sound of the music began to fade, leaving them to the sounds of nature surrounding them. Neither one spoke, focusing rather on finding out where Neil was.

They got they answer five minutes into their walk.

“Larry?” Came a call. Larry spun around, eyes widening at the sight of Neil; he had a cut across his cheekbone, his shirt was ripped. Blood, oozing slowly, slid from lacerations across his chest and stomach. “Help me,” he whimpered, leaning against the oak tree.

“ _Shit_ , Neil,” Larry whispered, crossing over to him. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he needed to touch to assess. The wounds were deep, carving through muscle and fat tissue with little issue. “Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_ , okay. C’mon, lean against me- just like that. We’s gonna get you inside. Come on. Todd’s waitin’ for you.”

“Todd’s okay?” Neil asked, a smile curling his lips. “Good. I’m glad.”

“What got you?” Travis asked, brows furrowing. “What was it, Neil?”

“I don’t…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t an animal. I dunno. It… It looked like- like David.”

A chill crept across Larry’s skin.

“David?” He asked, voice hoarse. “Are you sure?”

“I think so? Unless I was hallucinating…” He trailed off, knees buckling. Larry hissed and held on tighter.

“Travis, let’s _go_.” 

“Lead the way.”

Larry gripped Neil tightly, taking on the bulk of his weight as Travis followed behind, walking backwards, gun raised.

“Is Todd okay?” Neil asked as the tree line began to come into view. “He ain’t hurt, is he?”

“He’s fine, big guy.” Larry whispered, jaw clenching. “Scared outta his wits, but fine.”

Travis hissed.

Larry and Neil froze.

“When I say _run_ ,” Travis whispered, the sound of the safety clicking off barely audible. “I want you to run.”

“You better run, too.”

“Oh, I am. Which is why I’m sayin’ y’all better run.”

“What’re you seein’?”

Silence.

“Travis?”

“One.”

“Travis, what do you see?”

“ _Two._ ”

“Travis, what the fuck do you _see_?”

“ _ **RUN!**_ ” Travis bellowed, followed by the sound of a gunshot; Travis grabbed hold of Neil’s other side, and the trio took off, breaking through the brush and snapping twigs. _Something_ screamed behind them, the sound unearthly and horrifying, like an enraged animal. Like death screaming.

Like a banshee.

They broke through the tree line, and Ashley was screaming at them. “RUN, _RUN_ , GOD DAMN IT.” 

Maple’s gun was raised, and she fired.

Larry was glad he ducked.

“Shit, shit _shit shitshitshit **shit**_ ,” he hissed as they finally neared Ashley and Maple. Azaria came bounding around the side of the house. 

“Robert’s got Chug an’ Todd an’ Sal upstairs.” She took over for Travis, shouldering the weight of Neil much easier. 

“They alright?”

“Scared.”

“Good.”

Another shot was fired. Larry’s ears were ringing.

“Get _inside_.” Maple ordered, and no one argued.

“Everyone’s gone ‘cept for them.” Azaria hissed, helping Neil up the stairs. “Shit, Neil. You look like grated cheese.”

“ _Thanks_.”

“No problem.”

Maple and Travis slammed the doors shut behind them, Maple locking the back while Travis ran to the front to lock it. Not like it would do much good, depending on what the fuck was out there. 

“Robert!” Maple hollered as Azaria and Larry hauled Neil into a guest bedroom, all but dropping him onto the bed. Footsteps echoed through the house as Robert barreled down the stairs. “Git your kit. Azaria-”

“Already on it.”

“Larry, go check on Todd. And tell Chug to come down here.”

“Chug?”

Maple froze, jaw clenching. Robert glanced towards his sister, studying her; a silent conversation seemed to pass between them.

“Chug knows.”

The room went so quiet, one could hear a pin drop across the house.

“We’ll talk ‘bout this later.” Larry muttered, shaking his head as he walked out, slamming the door behind him hard enough that it rattled on its hinges. Travis winced, watching the brunette. “Chug _knows_.”

A glass dropped in the kitchen. “ _ **WHAT**_?!” Ashley screeched.

“I’m gonna go check on everyone. Stay down here.” Larry stomped up the stairs, pausing at the top to close his eyes and _calm down_. Everyone was freaked out right now. Shaking his head, he stalked down the hall and knocked twice on Maple’s bedroom door. A moment passed before it was opened by Chug, who balked at the anger he saw in Larry’s eyes. “Maple needs you downstairs.” He hissed, watching as the teen quickly slipped past him and headed down to the first floor. 

Inside, Todd sat with Sal beside him on Maple’s bed, a massive four poster thing with a sheer curtain hanging around it. Todd’s face had been cleaned up, and with a quick glance towards Sal, he noted the washcloth in his hands.

Carefully, he closed the door. “Neil’s alright. He’s downstairs; he’s shaken up, an’ he’s gonna take a shower an’ clean up. He got a few scrapes that Azaria’s gonna take care of.” He explained carefully, watching as Todd nodded once, twice, before tears began to fall.

Sal didn’t reach out to him. Larry didn’t, either.

* * *

Azaria shook her head as she ghosted her fingers across Neil’s torso. “Maple, go git me some whiskey. And git yo’ boyfriend outta here and bring in Travis.”

Chug bristled at that, but Maple grabbed his arm and pulled him out. “Robert, put on some music. Gotta drown out any sounds,” Maple called over her shoulder softly before Travis stepped in with a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

“One step ahead o’ ya.” Travis closed the door and locked it, surveying the room. Two pots of water had been set aside; a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and a mountain of gauze pads sat on the bedside table. Robert was moving, rifling through old albums as the record player began to play.

“ _All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey…_ ”

“Alright.” Travis handed the bottle to Neil, who took a long drink from it. “Robert, you got a bit?”

“Right here.” Robert stepped out, taking the bottle and trading it out for a bit, slipping it between Neil’s teeth. The wounded man settled back on the bed, eyes closing. 

Azaria pulled on a pair of latex gloves; Travis mimicked her. Together, they began to clean up the skin surrounding the wounds. The tears were jagged, as if someone had taken a pair of blunt scissors and tried to cut through duck-tape. It would scar. But there was a plus side to this.

He wasn’t bleeding out.

Azaria wasted no time in digging her fingers _in_ , much to Neil’s pain and annoyance. He let out a muffled groan, head flopping back against the pillows. “There’s somethin’ in here,” she whispered, brows furrowing as she pulled, pulled, pulled- Neil yelled through the bit. 

Travis was glad they had music playing. 

He reached out, prying the wound open. “He’s out,” Robert called.

“Good.” Azaria shook her head as she pulled the chunk of…

“What the _fuck_ \- is that a _finger_?!” Robert exclaimed, eyes wide as they all leaned in closer. 

It twitched.

“Oh, fuck, no.” Travis took hold of the… thing and set it down on a towel. “Burn that _thing_.” He turned his attention back to the wounds, carefully dragging the wet cloth around the edges. He paused, holding his hand out, mimicking the way the cuts lay. Perfectly in line with the way his fingers lay.

He and Azaria exchanged a look.

Silently, he threaded a needle. “We gonna cauterize or just sew?” He asked Azaria, who paused, thinking.

“Just sew.”

“Gotcha. You take the upper, I’ll take lower.”

“Right on, Lieutenant.”

A flash of teeth from Travis.

“… Are we really using salad tongs as forceps?” Robert asked as he held up the object.

“Do you _have_ forceps?” Travis asked as he sterilized the curved needle. Azaria let out a snort as she washed the wounds out, ignoring the way the dark clotted blood sloshed free. 

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.” Travis gripped the needle driver, an instrument that resembled scissors, minus the blades. Robert used the tongs to grip the edge of the first, deepest, laceration, pulling the skin up. Slowly, he pushed the needle through the skin at a 90 degree angle, careful not to go below the fat, but rather, right above it. Hand twisting clockwise, he watched as the needle came through the other side of the wound, directly across from the first hole. He unlocked the needle driver, reattached it near the tip of the needle, and pulled until he had a few inches of thread left. He made quick work of tying the suture once, twice, three times before cutting the thread.

“This will take a while,” Azaria murmured as she began to work on a separate wound. 

Travis grunted in agreement.

“But this does bring back some memories,” she continued, making Robert pause and glance between the pair.

“Memories?”

“Oh, yeah.” She cleared one suture before moving onto the next. “Me an’ Travis go way back. We’s both from Texas, y’know?” Travis nodded silently, too focused on keeping the wounds even. “I was born in 1840; Travis here was born in 1843. I ain’t gonna go into no details because frankly, I don’t want to remember some parts of my past. But I was changed in 1862; I was twenty-two years old, and there was fightin’ between the Union and Confederacy.”

“I had managed to avoid the draft,” Travis picked up, fingers never stilling. “My ma was a native woman; Comanche. She was taken by white folk from her tribe- or, well, “sold” is a better word for it. They promised she’d come back better, a learned woman. She never went back. Instead, she married my father; he was a preacher. And I came along.” He paused, leaning back to study the wound; fully sutured and closed. Onto the next. “… My father raised me with a heavy hand. My ma tried to protect me, she really did. But he was stronger than both o’ us. A man who feared god, and who put th’ damn fear o’ god into anyone who went to his church. I was nineteen when the draft came lookin’.

Lucky for me, that was also the day that I’d had enough o’ my pa’s shit. I begged ma to come with me, to leave to Louisiana wit’ me, but she didn’t. I ended up leavin’ in the middle o’ the night, headin’ towards New Orleans. An’ that’s when it happened.”

“It?” Robert asked as he shifted, cleaning up the wound on Neil’s cheek. 

“I fell in with a boy; his name was Alexander. He was French. He was pretty as can be, skin a lovely shade much like Azaria’s, with eyes the shade o’ the sky. He was an artist, and let me stay in his home. We fell in love.”

Robert paused, as did Azaria. 

“And then, one mornin’, I woke up- an’ he was dead.”

“Dead?”

“Dead. I dunno what happened; he liked opium, so maybe he overdosed. I dunno. But it hurt. I hurt. I was mad as all hell. And I did some stupid shit an’ ended up wanderin’ the border o’ Texas and Louisiana. A woman found me, nearly dead from exhaustion and dehydration. An’ she offered me a way out. An’ I took it.

“She changed me, and taught me how t’feed. Now, don’t get any ideas- she was motherly. A strong Native woman that reminded me o’ my own ma. But when it came time fo’ me to move on, she didn’ wanna leave. We parted ways in New Orleans; she returned t’Texas, and I met Azaria here. That was in 1863.”

Robert hummed, worrying his lip. “So, you’re… Older than us.”

“Yeah.”

“… How’d you learn this?” He gestured to the sutures.

“Went t’medical school. Was gonna be a doctor; ended up being a nurse instead for a while.” Shrugging, he sat back, looking over the sutures. “I taught Azaria how t’ suture and some basics. She was able t’get on as a nurse, too.” 

“So, you two go way back, then.” 

“Yep.” They answered simultaneously.

Stretching, Travis pulled his gloves off and yawned. “He’ll need t’feed soon,” he murmured, watching as Robert nodded. 

“I’ve got that covered.”

“What about Todd?” 

“… Was he injured?”

“Shaken up, but not injured.”

A sigh left Travis as he nodded, “He’ll want to see Neil soon.”

“Should we wake him up?”

“Wake who up?” Neil asked, groggily. He reached up to his stomach, feeling the fresh sutures. “Ow.”

“Good mornin’, handsome.” Azaria cooed, settling on the edge of the bed. “It’ll take a few days for that to heal over. If Todd asks, say you fell into some barbed wire.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Robert helped him sit up.

“Want a new shirt?”

“Please.”

Travis left them, slipping out and into the kitchen, where Ashley stood with Maple and Chug.

Chug.

_Chug knew_.

Travis bared his teeth in a snarl. “So, we can’t say _shit_ , but you git t’go and tell your toy?” He asked, watching as Maple stiffened.

“He found out by _himself _,” she replied, voice dangerously low. “You watch yourself, now.”__

“Look,” Chug spoke up, hands raised. “I ain’t gonna say shit. My lips are sealed.”

“How do we know?” Ashley asked, her accent dropped. “How do we know you won’t go and tell Sal and Todd?”

Maple crossed her arms over her chest. “I trust him, Doesn’t that say enough?”

“No, it doesn’t. And you know Larry ain’t gonna have that. You know the exact argument he’s gonna make.” Travis countered, moving past Chug and to the fridge, opening it and searching before reaching in, pulling free a bag of chilled blood. “But I ain’t gonna fight. Neil’s stitched up. He’s gotta feed, then Todd can go an’ see him.”

“You stitched him up?” Maple asked, surprise dancing across her features.

“Believe it or not,” Travis began, backing out of the room, “I’m good at some things.”

* * *

October 27th, 1991  
5:00 a.m.

* * *

“Todd?” Ashley’s voice called through the door before it was opened. “Neil’s all good now.” Todd was up and running out of the door before Larry or Sal could react. Ashley hovered by the door, wringing her hands. “Travis needs t’talk t’ya, Lar.”

“Right. Sal-… You need to sleep.”

“Wha…?” Sal blinked blearily, brows furrowing. “No, I’m,” a yawn, “I’m good.”

“No, you need t’sleep.” Larry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Tell Travis t’meet me outside. I’m gonna bring Sal home.”

Ashley nodded, a small smile on her lips as she stepped aside, letting Larry lead Sal out. The boy was stumbling, half asleep. She’d gotten his costume all together and downstairs (and cleaned up the mess they had left in the bathroom, the heathens). As she followed them down, she took a moment to study the scene before her. Sal’s hair was a curly, frizzy mess, and she could see the hint of bruising on his neck. 

She couldn’t help but snicker.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Larry called, poking his head into the informal sitting room. Everyone was gathered there; Todd was clinging to Neil, his face buried in his shoulder. Travis was lingering by the fireplace. “Gonna bring Sal out to th’ truck an’ take him on home.”

He didn’t wait for anyone to approve, grabbing Sal’s bag and leading the blue haired boy out the door. Ashley’s truck was parked beside the house, thankfully, so they didn’t have too far to walk. He opened the passenger side door for Sal, watching as he clambered in. 

“’m not tired,” Sal mumbled, even as he curled up on the seat. 

“I know.” Larry replied, closing the door before tossing the bag into the bed. He turned, watching as Travis stepped out. The blond motioned for him to follow.

“Everyone else has already been told, so…” Ashley joined them, then. “Chug knows.”

“I know.”

“… What.”

“I know that he knows.” Larry replied, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’d stolen some of Robert’s clothes for the night. “I figured it out befo’ Maple did.”

“Really?” Ashley shook her head, brows furrowed. “How?”

“We live in th’ same apartment buildin’. Kid’s smarter than he looks.”

Travis blew out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Well, that ain’t all. Ash?”

“Right.” She led them to the edge of Maple’s property, crouching down. “This is where de fence normally is, yeah?” She asked, tapping the ground. “Where is it?”

“That’s the barrier that Robert placed.” Larry shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. “Someone tore it up.”

“Yeah, and…” She moved farther down the line, pausing before a bush. “Behind here.”

Larry stepped over the mangled barbed wire and nearly fell on his ass at the sight that greeted him. A deer, or, what was _left_ of one, hung from a tree, well hidden by the oak trees around it. “What in the _hell_ ,” he shook his head, nose scrunching up from the smell. Its neck had been broken before ripped open, and the poor thing had been gutted, the innards spread out on the ground below. 

“I know. But look- what’s missin’?” Ashley asked.

Larry studied the ground, revolted by the sight. The stomach was there, the intestines, kidneys… Heart. No heart. He looked over to Ashley, who nodded.

“Exactly. And how it was hung…” She shook her head. It had been pierced on a broken branch. 

Larry felt like puking.

But he didn’t. Instead, he turned and stepped back onto Maple’s yard. “Well… What’d you see, back in the woods? What’d you and Maple fire at?”

Travis fell silent, jaw clenching. “Honestly? I don’t know. It looked like David. But it sure as hell didn’t _smell_ like David. It smelt like a crypt. And he sure as hell didn’t move like a human.”

“What, you sayin’ he’s a zombie?” A snort escaped Ashley.

“Naw, not that. He’s livin’. He’s… Like us. But not. I dunno. I’m gonna talk with Maple on it, get her view o’ things.” He shook his head. “We need t’watch our backs.” Travis rubbed the back of his neck. “Me an’ Azaria have seen somethin’ similar, back in Texas. But that was… A long time ago.”

“… Come over later an’ explain. I need t’git Sal into a bed.” Larry rubbed at his eyes.

“Can I come wit’?” Ashley asked, arms wrapping around herself. “I’m done bein’ here righ’ now.”

“Of course. It’s yo’ truck. You wanna drive?”

“Yeah.” 

“Travis, bring my bike back to the house?” Larry asked as he fished his keys out from his pocket. Travis nodded and began to wander back towards Maple’s house while Ashley walked with Larry. Her shoulder leaned into his, and they leaned into one another, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her temple. 

“Sal’s a good match fer ya,” she whispered, her arm snaking around his waist. “Almost makes me jealous.”

“He’s bi.”

“… Slightly less jealous now.”

A snicker left both of them. Larry opened the passenger side door and paused, taking in the sight of Sal, sound asleep. Sighing, he reached down and carefully raised him up, sliding into the seat. He settled Sal’s head back onto his lap as Ashley climbed into the driver’s side. Sal’s feet were hanging off of the seat. 

“That’s adorable,” Ashley smiled as she started up the truck and backed up in the drive before turning and heading off. She turned on the radio, the soft sounds of Fleetwood Mac crooning through the speakers as she began the drive back to Gentilly.

“ _I took my love, I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around, and I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills, ‘til the landslide brought me down._ ” Stevie Nicks sang softly. Larry rolled down his window halfway, listening to the sound of crickets as dawn began to break. Morning birds were chirping. The storm clouds lingered behind them. Idle hands began to brush through Sal’s hair gently, careful to not tug on any tangles. 

The turn signal clicked as Ashley waited for a clearing in traffic before pulling onto the main highway. 

“Your house?” She asked softly.

“Yeah. We can all crash there.”

“Good. I’m exhausted.” She drug a hand through her hair. “…’Side from de fact dat Neil almost became shredded meat, tonight was good. ‘Specially for you.” She glanced over at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, you got no idea,” Larry hummed, leaning his head back. “You get the details later.”

“Good. Give me somethin’ t’ fantasize ‘bout.”

“ _Gross_.” He snickered, reaching over to flick her shoulder. She stuck her tongue before her face grew serious. 

“… Somethin’s happenin’. There’s a change in de air. Feels like the way it does ‘fore a hurricane comes.”

“I know,” Larry sighed, looking down at the turquoise head in his lap. “… I know.”


	15. Night Crawler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brunch.  
> Important Conversations.  
> A Dramatic Reveal.  
> Doe, A Deer!  
> An Uninvited Guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise I'm updating early. This chapter is shorter than the others (only 12 pages compared to the 20+ I've been writing), but I wanted to get this one out so I can get into the next chapters where shit begins to pick up.  
> Nothing majorly triggering or troubling happens here. A relatively calm chapter, really.
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means so much to me!! I'm so happy that y'all are liking this so much. It makes me excited to see the reactions y'all give.  
> You can follow me to get snippets & me shitposting about Sally Face on: https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to write/draw anything for this, drop me a link! Let me know! I'd love to see it!  
> Without further ado- Empire of Dirt.

_“Doors are locked and bolted now, as the thing crawls into town.”_  
- _Night Crawler_ , Judas Priest

* * *

October 27th, 1991  
12:30 p.m.

* * *

Sal blinked the sleep from his eyes, staring at a ceiling that was most definitely not his own, due to the posters that covered it. Brows furrowing, he went to move- only to find himself trapped between two very heavy, very _warm_ bodies. Soft snoring came from either side.

Head turning first to the left, he was met with messy reddish brown hair, a button nose, and long eyelashes. Ashley. Turning to the right, he was met with a larger nose, a mole under the right eye, and dark circles beneath the eyes. Larry.

He was stuck, in bed, between them.

And he really, really, _really_ needed to pee. Like, apocalyptic bad. His bladder was screaming for mercy. But Ashley had a death grip around his waist, and Larry’s leg was draped over his, and he was TRAPPED.

“Mornin’,” came a sleepy voice from beside him. Ashley. 

“Good morning I really need to pee.”

Ashley stared at him for a moment before a snort escaped her. She pulled away from Sal and sat up, running a hand through her (frankly, wild) hair, cringing at the knots she found. “Don’ take long. I need’a shower.” 

Wriggling free of Larry’s grasp, Sal clambered out of his bed (which was big, and comfy, and _warm_ ), shuffling out of the bedroom and into the living room. He could hear Ashley moving about in the bedroom behind him.

Bathroom. Blessed. He didn’t even stop to look at his reflection before emptying his bladder; it was only after that he realized his mask was… Not on. Panic filled him as he realized what had just happened. He’d slept between Larry and Ash without his mask on. Ashley had seen him _without his prosthetic on_. But she hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t yelled. She didn’t look disgusted.

His lip trembled as tears filled his eye.

“Sal?” Ashley called through the door, voice tinged with worry. “Ya okay in there, sweetie?”

“Fine!” Sal called back, turning on the sink to quickly scrub his face. “Just needed to wash my face.”

“I gots you your prosthetic. If ya crack open de door, I can give it t’ya.” 

Sal silently thanked whatever God there was. He cracked open the door, and his prosthetic came into view. Grabbing it from Ashley’s hand, he waited for her to step back before he closed the door fully. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Calm down. With shaking hands, he reached up, sliding the mask into place. 

He gave himself another few minutes to calm down before opening the bathroom door. Ashley was leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed over her chest. 

“You’s good?” She asked softly, head tilting to the side. She held a change of clothes in one hand, the other holding a toothbrush. 

A nod. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey- Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t look as bad as you think you do.”

Sal swallowed harshly as she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Rubbing his arm, he looked around; this wasn’t the first time he’d been in Larry’s apartment. But this was the first time he was practically alone. Larry was still snoring; the shower had been started up behind him. Lisa was nowhere to be seen. 

His stomach rumbled.

Food.

Larry had food, right? He shuffled to the kitchen, pausing at the fridge. Eggs. He could make scrambled eggs. And bacon, if they had any. Or maybe fried eggs? Toast?

… One thing at a time, Fisher.

Fridge open, he stared at the inside. There was a pitcher of sweet tea, a few bottles of wine (fancy), a carton of eggs (score!), a cooler, a carton of milk… And that was about it. No bacon.

They did have grape jam. Toast, then. 

He grabbed the carton of eggs and set it on the counter before turning back to grab the gallon of milk. Salt and pepper, too. He needed those. He’d make a DAMN good breakfast-er, lunch?- one way or another. 

Now, where were the pans…

* * *

October 27th, 1991  
1:45 p.m.

* * *

“Neil an’ Todd are gone.” Travis announced as he stepped back inside, running a hand through his hair. He’d showered, washing away the temporary dye. “Neil’s gonna swing by tonight so I c’n make sure he’s all good an’ not tearin’.” 

“Good.” Maple sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. Chug was outside, working on fixing up Maple’s car. Something was wrong with the motor.

“So…” Robert began, looking between the four of them, his gaze lingering on Azaria for a moment longer than necessary.

“So?” Azaria repeated, arms crossing over her chest. 

“We need to talk.”

“You make it sound like we’s a couple.”

Travis cleared his throat, a brow raised. “Maple?”

“Right…” Skirts swirling around her legs, she left the room for a moment before coming back in with a photo album. Travis settled down onto the arm of the couch beside Robert. Maple slid by and sat down on the couch, opening the photo album on her lap. “So, Travis had a question. He’s never _seen_ Red’s sister before.”

“So, you wanna see her?” Robert asked, clearly not following.

“I need t’see her, ‘cause when I described the woman who changed me, Maple looked like she was gonna pass out.”

Robert sat up straighter, brows furrowing as he looked to his sister in worry. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. “What’d she look like?”

“Blonde hair, kinda curly. Really blue eyes, like, they resemble th’ afternoon sky. Pale- was sorta weird seein’ a lady so pale out in Texas, but there she was. She got freckles, too- lotsa them. She was… Beautiful.” Travis shook his head slowly, gaze unfocused. “Unearthly. Elegant. Terrifyin’.”

Maple let out a shuddering breath. “Travis?” She asked, voice shaking as she tapped the photograph.

Travis slid from his set and crouched down before Maple, taking the album from her. He studied the picture for a moment, eyes narrowing before widening. He promptly fell backwards, hands shaking. “That’s- that’s her. That’s her, the woman who changed me, th’ one who helped me.”

“Travis, that’s Diane.”

“Diane?”

“Red’s sister.”

Travis let the photo album slip from his fingers onto the ground. Azaria crouched down beside him and snatched it up, studying the image. Maple and Red were sitting together, while Robert stood above Maple and the woman- Diane- stood above Red. There was something… Off, about the woman.

She set the album down.

“An’ who thinks that’s Sal’s momma?” Robert asked after a moment, filling the silence that had grown.

“Larry.”

“… Larry’s been ‘round Sal the most.” Maple drug a hand through her hair. 

Travis let out a soft noise, leaning back on his hands. “… I’ve gotta bring Larry his bike back. I’ll talk t’him tonight.”

Azaria hummed, settling onto the ground beside him. “Can I bum a ride?”

“Always.” Travis replied almost immediately, flashing a smile.

Maple shifted, picking at her skirts. “… We need to talk.”

“About…”

“About what you saw, Travis.” 

“… Right,” he drawled, sitting back up. Maple left the room, the photo album in hand. “Well, first I gotta question for you.”

“I might have an answer,” her voice drifted back towards them.

“How d’you know David died? Completely?”

“… Pardon?” Maple’s head poked in, her brows furrowed. “I was there when he overdosed. He stopped breathin’.”

“You and Larry both were?” Travis asked, watching as she stepped back into the room. “… Do I wanna know why?”

“It was a party. It was bad. Police were never called- not until the mornin’.”

“Why?”

“Because they was idiots an’ we was idiots.” Maple spat, lip curling. “An’ we didn’ want no one findin’ us.”

“So you stood by, and-”

“We tried to change him.”

Silence filled the room. Travis stared at Maple, his mind suddenly blank. They tried to… change him? “Before, or after he overdosed?”

“In the middle of it.” Her voice was small. She crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders curling in, making herself seem smaller. “We tried- but his blood was tainted, and wrong, and he was already dying and we couldn’t do nothin’.”

“… Shi-et,” Azaria whispered, shoulders falling as she shook her head. “But that- how long ago was that?”

Robert cleared his throat as he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. “Ten years.”

“… He would have risen the next night.”

“Should have, yes. But, like I said, it was too late, he was too close to death for us to have had any effect on him.”

“Hypothetically,” Travis began, “what would happen if you fed from a dead body.”

“Old dead or new dead? Either way, it’ll fuck you up bad enough that you could, sssskt.” Robert drew a finger across his throat.

“So, how is he…” He didn’t know the word for it. 

Maple settled down onto the floor, her skirts swishing out around her as Chug walked in, shirt now holding grease stains. He didn’t enter the living room, instead walking into the kitchen and began scrubbing his hands.

“Tell us, in detail, what you saw.” She ordered softly as Robert pulled his sketch pad out, pencil poised above the paper.

“Fuck,” Travis groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “Okay. Okay, well… His skin wasn’t normal-colored; it was off, not quite gray, not tan- like, a sickly mixture o’ the two. Kinda jaundiced? A yellow-ish tint to the skin. He didn’ have no hair, an’ there was these… Black? It was dark, okay? These black lines comin’ from his nose an’ his eyes an’ his ears, like… I guess it’d be old blood, now that I think ‘bout it.

“He was thin, an; I don’t mean Larry thin. I mean he looked like a corpse in th’ mos’ literal sense. An he was missin’ teeth, but he had teeth like ours. Sharp. His shirt was torn an’ had blood on it, same as his pants. I’m thinkin’ that was th’ deer’s blood.” A shudder danced through him. “I didn’ getta good look at his hands, but he’s missin’ a finger, now. We…” A glance towards Azaria. “We found it in Neil’s stomach.”

“Did Neil bite-”

“No, Swan. _In_ his stomach. In the cut.”

“… Oh, my lord,” Maple whispered, a hand pressed to her lips. 

“Exactly my reaction. An’ it _moved_ -” Travis paused, head jerking towards Robert. “Did you burn it?”

“It’s nothin’ but ash.”

Relief washed over the blonde’s features. “Good. He uh… He smelled. Bad.”

“Bad, how?”

“Bad, as in rotten meat left in an unplugged refrigerator th’ sun in th’ middle o’ August.” His tone was dry.

Robert made a gagging noise as he drew. Travis let out a snort.

“I think I got a shot in,” Maple spoke after a moment. “I can’t be sure, but I’m certain it hit, or at least grazed.”

“I got ‘im.” Travis replied with surety. “He was ‘bout five feet from me,” he paused then, brows furrowing. “Wait a minute…”

“What?” Azaria leaned forward, studying Travis’ face. 

“He acted like he couldn’ see me. Could smell me, sure. But couldn’ see me. I wasn’t more than five feet in front o’ him. He should’a been able t’see me.”

“… His eyes. What were they like?”

“They…” He struggled, shaking his head. “Milky. Like… Like a haze was over ‘em.”

Maple hummed, resting her chin on her hand as Chug quietly walked in and settled down behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. She leaned back into him. “Maybe he _couldn’t_ see you.”

“You think he’s blind?” Robert asked, surprise dancing in his voice.

“Th’ first sign o’ death is th’ eyes cloudin’ over.” Travis added, nodding.

“So, he’s blind.”

“An’ screams like a banshee.” 

“I ain’ never heard nothin’ make a sound like dat.” Chug murmured, shaking his head. Maple reached up, running her fingers through dyed green hair.

“Only sound I know of that’s even _close_ t’what he made was a mountain lion up in Arkansas a few years back.” Shaking his head, Travis shifted, wincing at the twinge of pain that raced up his leg from his ankle. Oh, yeah. Definitely sprained after last night.

“Well,” Robert turned the sketch pad over, showing his creation to the room. “Close?”

Travis leaned forward, studying the image with a raised brow. It _was_ close, just in black and white and grey. “Here,” he tapped the left shoulder. “That’s where I hit him.”

“So, he’ll be missin’ a chunk in his shoulder.” Robert murmured, jotting the note down. “Anythin’ else?”

“Naw. That’s close.”

“Good.”

“He almost looks like a zombie.” Azaria commented, snickering. It got a round of soft laughter out of the five of them, something that was much needed.

“Well,” Travis sighed, pushing himself up to his feet. “Azaria, you wanted t’see where it was that we found ‘im?”

“I wanna see, too.” Robert rose to his feet while Travis helped Azaria up.

“I’m gonna finish cleanin’ this place up.” Maple decided, nodding. “Did you fix her up?”

“Almost.” Chug replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Gross.” Robert stuck his pierced tongue out before walking past the couple, Travis and Azaria following behind. 

“I’m gonna need t’head out soon; I gotta get Larry’s bike back t’him.” Travis called as he stepped onto the front porch, only to freeze in his steps. Azaria nearly ran into him before letting out a disgusted sound, a hand slapping over her lips. Robert hissed, grabbing hold of Travis’s shoulder. 

The deer was back. 

The deer was _standing_ \- very much not alive any longer, but it was up. 

“How in the Sam Hell,” Travis asked, taking a step closer before crouching down. It had been posed right in front of the steps, blocking their path. Its head was propped up by a stick, and as he leaned down, he saw that more sticks- no, _branches_ \- were holding it up.

“Maple?”

“What- oh, what the _fuck_ is that?!” She exclaimed, eyes wide in alarm, a hand pressed to her chest. “That wasn’t here when you’s was out here, was it, Chug?”

“Naw! Hell naw!” Chug shook his head, a hand pressed to his mouth. “What the _fuck_.”

“Robert?” Travis asked as he rose to his feet. “Help me take it down.”

“Gross.” He repeated, but followed after Travis back into the house to find a pair of rubber gloves. “D’you wan a bandana for a mask?”

“Please.”

“On it.” 

“How…?” Azaria asked as she walked down the steps, head tilting to the side. “I’m impressed and disturbed.”

“You an’ me both,” Travis agreed as he walked out, looking like a bandit about to go clean. Literally. Plastic gloves covered his hands, up to his elbows. “This is disgustin’.”  
Robert grunted in agreement as they circled the deer. He went to touch it, only for it to _lean_ before falling. 

Travis let out a surprised shout as he backed up, and they watched as the carcass simply fell to the ground with a disgusting squelch. 

“… That’s…”

“Disgusting?”

“Yes.”

* * *

October 27th, 1991  
4:30 p.m.

* * *

It took them a few more hours before Travis had been able to leave. Azaria’s arms were wrapped around his waist as they sped through traffic, weaving between cars and trucks. It worked out nicely that Azaria also lived at Addison Apartments.

“Thanks for bringin’ me home, Tex.” Azaria called over her shoulder as she walked towards her apartment.

Travis didn’t respond; instead, he pulled away from the front and slowly drove back to Larry’s place. Lisa’s truck was here, so they were still home. He parked and slid off, stretching, his back popping as he twisted this way then that. The front door opened mid-stretch, and he turned, watching as Larry paused.

“… Evenin’.” Larry greeted after a moment, a smile curling his lips.

“Afternoon we need to talk.” 

“Wow, okay, don’t even ask how my day’s been.”

“I just had a dead deer appear in front of Maple’s door and then fall to the ground so, no.”

That sobered Larry up quickly, his shoulders tensing as he closed the door behind him. “Walk wit’ me?”

“Lead th’ way.”

As they walk around the apartment building slowly, Travis detailed everything- the deer, the trail and the lack of David having even _been_ there aside from the blood that was on the ground from Neil and the shell from the gun. 

“And…” Travis hesitated, coming to a stop at the back of the building.

“And?” Larry asked, leaning against the building.

Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I asked Maple t’see th’ photograph of Red’s sister.”

Silence.

“She’s th’ one who changed me.”

Silence.

Larry stared at him, his brow furrowed, face unreadable. It made Travis nervous, had his feet shifting, his hands shaking. “I wouldn’ forget a face like her’s, ‘cause she was so outta place in Texas…” He trailed off. 

Finally, Larry replied. “An’ what does this have t’do wit’ me?”

“Because you were there when Maple gave us her theory in th’ first place.” 

“… So you think Sal’s the kid o’ Diane?”

“Has he ever mentioned her name?”

A pause. Larry faltered. “No,” he admitted after a moment. “He hasn’t.”

“Have you ever seen a picture of her?”

“I might have- I dunno. I can’t remember. Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“… Is Sal still at your place?” 

“Yeah- he’s showerin’. Ma’s makin’ jambalaya.”

“I’m comin’ over for dinner, then.” Travis started to walk back towards the apartment, only for Larry to block his path. “What?”

“Don’t bring it up.”

“Naw, I won’t.” Travis moved past him once more. “You will,” he called over his shoulder before taking off in a run, Larry cursing him every step of the way as he chased after him.

* * *

October 27th, 1991  
6:30 p.m.

* * *

“This is _amazing_ ,” Sal spoke up, smiling beneath the mask. If Travis shifted down in his seat, he’d be able to see that mouth. But he didn’t. 

Sal didn’t take his mask off for a reason.

“Thanks, hun,” Lisa smiled gently as she cleared away her and Ashley’s bowls. Neither one ate much- then again, that wasn’t surprising. 

Given what they were and all.

“So,” Larry began, leaning back in his seat. “You never told me what yer ma’s name was.”

Lisa and Ashley both paused in the kitchen, looking back towards them curiously.

Sal hummed around his mouthful, chewing carefully. They waited until he swallowed. “Why?” He asked instead of answering, grabbing his empty bowl and rising from the table.

“’Cause I’m curious.” Larry replied, arms crossing over his chest. 

“… Diane.”

Travis dropped his spoon into his bowl. Ashley nearly dropped her bowl but caught it. Sal either didn’t notice, or just didn’t bother commenting. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” Lisa covered for them. Sal agreed, and the pair began to talk; Sal wanted the recipe for her jambalaya. Larry couldn’t focus. His mind was swarming with thoughts. It could just be a coincidence, right? Of course. Plenty of women were named Diane. Look at Princess Diane! 

His gaze met Travis, reading the panicked confusion there, as well.

… Shit.

“I mean, you’d think I’d have a better grasp on French, since my mom spoke it, but I didn’t. Larry’s helped a lot,” Sal spoke up. 

Ashley quietly left the kitchen, her eyes wide, her hands shaking.

Double shit.

“What happened to her?” Lisa asked softly, motherly worry dripping into her voice. “If you don’t mind my asking, of course. You don’t have t’tell me…”

“She passed away when I was six in the same accident that… Caused me to need this.” He gestured with soapy hands towards his face.

“Oh, Sal,” Lisa murmured, reaching out to wrap him up in a gentle hug. He returned it quickly.

Larry’s hands were shaking. Travis looked ready to cry. Ashley had disappeared into the bathroom and hadn’t come out. His gaze drifted towards Sal, taking him in; blue hair that was meticulously dyed, short stature and thin frame, pale skin, freckles on his shoulders.

Freckles.

His hair was naturally blond- that much, he was certain of, after last night.  
… Oh, holy _shit_.

* * *

October 28th, 1991  
1:30 a.m.

* * *

Maple stood on her balcony, gaze trained on the storm clouds gathering, their bottoms heavy with the promise of rain. She could see lightning flashing within them, could hear the distant rumble of thunder. A cold breeze carried them south.

Her jaw clenched as goose bumps broke across her flesh, the black night gown she wore doing nothing to protect her.

Footsteps behind her sounded; Robert quietly stepped up beside her, his hair damp from his shower. “Jus’ got off the phone with Larry. He needs t’talk to you.”

“I’ll drop by tomorrow; I want to see him, anyway.” 

“… What’s on your mind, Swannie?” Robert asked, leaning against the wall, watching as her silver hair floated in the breeze. His gaze traveled lower, falling on the scar that tore across her back shoulder to shoulder; they had been fourteen and fifteen, cleanin’ up the farm after a hurricane swept through. She’d fallen, and a branch cut through her. They thought she was gonna die. But she didn’t. She pulled through.

“We can’t deny that Red’s back now, can we? It’s impossible. The fact that th’ dead’s walkin’, that we’s all bein’ targeted. But why’s he waitin’ so long?” She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned, brows furrowed. “Why ain’t he strikin’?”

“I dunno, Maple. But we… Might want to move back to town. Just for the time being.”

“I agree.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the woods. “I don’t like being so far from everyone right now.”

“Let’s go to bed?”

“Right.”

She stepped into her bedroom, closing the doors to her balcony while Robert left to his own bedroom. The door shut, and she was left alone.

Not alone.

“How long have you been standing there?” She asked the figure hiding in the shadows, watching her. 

“Long enough,” they replied, voice rough, ragged, nothing like what she remembered.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To deliver a message.”

“How did you get in?”

“Your wards are broken, princess.”

They stepped into the light of the candles, revealing light brown hair that swept over their right eye. They wore a simple blue gown, torn and damp at the bottom. She couldn’t see their feet. 

She didn’t want to know what was there.

“You have one minute.”

“I only need thirty seconds. You’re being watched. You know who it is. Bring the boy to Manchac. Drown him. Let him _rise_ again. This is not his only life.”

Maple didn’t let her face reveal anything. “What is your name, demon?”

It smiled, showing rows upon rows of sharp teeth- too many for a human mouth to hold. Too many for any mouth to hold. “Now, why would I tell you that, Maple?”

“Only fair.”

“… Claire.” And they were gone. Maple blinked, spinning around her room, searching every corner. Nothing. No one. The carpet was damp where it had been standing. 

She ran her hands over her arms. 

They would move back to the town manor. At least the wards there were easier to maintain. 

_“Drown the boy, let him rise again.”_

“Why would he need to be drowned…?” She murmured into the night air, receiving a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder as her only answer as rain began to fall. 

The storm was growing ever closer.


	16. La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ye Olde Texas.  
> French Lovers.  
> An Angel.  
> A Chance Meeting.  
> A Goodbye.  
> A Good Morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all, we're here. We're learning things. Things are tying together. I cried at work writing the ending to this. It hurt me. But it was sweet.   
> I'm not gonna give away anything other than: Alexander is an OC of mine.  
> I'm really proud of this chapter because it took a LOT of research and staring at a map of Texas in the 1800s for too many hours, and then trying to figure out how long it would take to get from point A to point B by foot...  
> You can get from Beaumont, TX to New Orleans in 3 days by foot, btw.  
> BRIEF WARNING for child abuse mention and some gore. And drug use/overdosing.   
> ... this chapter is dark in the beginning, I'm sorry.
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! I'm still amazed that y'all are liking this and liking my writing. It blows me away, and your kind words mean so much to me, so thank you all so much.  
> You can catch me screaming about this fic and other fics and other things that relate to this fic and Sally Face in general on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If you happen to write/draw anything to do with this fic, let me know!! I'd love to see it!

_“Quand il me prend dans ses bras_  
 _Il me parle tout bas_  
 _Je vois la vie en rose…”_  
- _La Vie En Rose_ , Edith Piaf

* * *

July 18th, 1862  
7:15 p.m.  
Anderson, Texas

* * *

“Travis!” Richard yelled, his voice booming through the house. The Texas heat was sweltering, the cicadas screaming, the air humid as a thunder storm rolled in. “Travis Phelps, you git your ass back here or lord help me!”

Travis hunkered low, his head bent. Beside him, his mother, Marie, held him close. Richard was on a tirade. Word had gotten out about their plan, about how they were going to leave. They were hiding behind the hay bale, keeping quiet as Richard bellowed in the house. This, coupled with the rumor of Travis bein’ caught with the Wilkers boy in their barn (it wasn’t a rumor), sent Richard into a rage befitting a bull. 

“We could leave, right now. We can jus’ go, ma. Go down south,” Travis whispered, gripping her hands- hands that had always been so gentle, so calm, so soft. Hands that would tend to the wounds that his father would cause. Hands that had never caused harm, only healing. 

“No.” she shook her head, her dark hair falling around her face, her shoulders. Wide, chestnut hues took in her son’s face- the fresh black eye that he’d gotten just the day before, the split lip. The fear in his beautiful hazel eyes. She cupped his cheek, gently stroking the skin. “No, no. You go, now.” Her English was still clipped, even now. “You go now, and you will run. You will run far from here.”

“Mama, I can’t.” He pleaded, brows pinching. “I can’t leave you t’be wit’ him! He’ll kill you!”

Her hand fell to his hands, gripping them tightly. “If I die, then I will die and be free from that man. And you will be free, away from here.”

“Mama, please,” he whimpered, tears trailing down his cheeks. Cheeks that were only a shade or two lighter than her own. “Come wit’ me. We don’t gotta go south, we c’n go north! They say the north is better! They’s free up there!”

“No, my son.” She was so _calm_ ; it was infuriating. “You go.”

“Mama-”

“Go.”

Travis took one last look at his mother- the fine lines around her lips, the calm rage in her eyes, the same lips he had. He favored her far more than he did his father; all he got from him was his damn hair.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, holding her tightly. “I love you, so much. I’ll come back fer you. I promise.”

“I do not doubt that.” She stood slowly, brushing hay from her dress, and turned. “I will distract him. You need to run. You have my blood in you; your feet will be silent in the forest. You know how to hunt. You will survive. Go to Beaumont. Go. I must stay here. I must look after your siblings. They cannot weather his wrath like you could. My strong boy; the spirit of a stallion is within you.” She did not look back at him when she stepped out from behind the hay bale. 

Travis didn’t look back when he took off through the field.

He didn’t look back when the sound of the porch door slamming open echoed through the field.

He didn’t look back when his father’s enraged yelling filled the air.

He didn’t look back when the sharp sound of skin hitting skin rang out.

He didn’t look back when Masie began to cry.

He didn’t look back when Stephen began to shout.

He didn’t look back, not until he was in the woods, not until he had crossed the creek, not until he was crossed over into Houston county.

Only then did he stop and look over his shoulder in the direction he’d been running. He looked up at the early morning sky as he fell to his knees in the middle of the field, the sack of clothes and food and money falling to the ground beside him. The sky was starting to tint pink. His bottom lip trembled, and he began to cry, a harsh, wailing sound escaping him that resembled the wolves’ howls that liked to attack their cattle.

He was no stallion; he was a lone wolf with no pack to support him any longer.

* * *

September 15th, 1862  
9:00 a.m.  
Beaumont, Texas

* * *

Beaumont was a nice place, near the coast and close to Port Arthur. It wasn’t that big, not yet; the riverport was slowly bringing in more folk, apparently. A lot of settlers were comin’ ‘round. 

That’s where Travis found himself, working at the riverport, unloading the riverboats that would come up. He didn’t go by Travis here; no, here, his name was Matthew Mason, and he didn’t have a permanent place to sleep, not yet, at least. But that was about to change.

“Pardon me,” Travis murmured, side stepping a woman and her family, dipping the brim of his hat low. 

“ _Alexandre, demande-liu._ ” The woman spoke, causing Travis to pause. They got French speakers around here often, coming in from New Orleans. He knew enough to know that he was being addressed. A boy stepped forward, his skin a rich shade of brown, his eyes the color of the early morning sky over the plains. He was handsome- no, not handsome. He was beautiful. Travis found himself rooted to the spot as this boy, this Alexander, smiled at him.

“Where is the inn, here?” His voice was lilted with that wonderful accent, befitting of his stature. Petite, pretty. 

“Well,” Travis drawled, a smile curling his lips. “You’s gonna have t’go on up to th’ main street, righ’ beside th’ Crows Nest Tavern,” he paused, letting Alexander repeat the directions.

“ _Demandez-lui s'il va nous montrer le chemin_.” The woman spoke once more, her gaze settling on Travis- sizing him up, he realized. He’d gotten darker, working at the port, his skin sporting a rich, deep tan; his Native blood showing strongly, despite his blonde hair. 

“ _Maman, nous n'avons pas besoin de le déranger_ ,” Alexander argued softly, brows furrowed, but fell silent at the glare she sent him. A sigh left him. “Would you be so kind as to show us the way?” He asked, turning his gaze to Travis.

Travis removed his hat and placed it over his heart before bowing slightly. “It would be my pleasure.” Alexander broke into a smile, nodding at his mother. “Here, lemme take yer bag, madam,” he offered, holding his hand out. The woman stared at it for a moment before looking down at her bag. A moment passed before she handed it off to him. “If you’s will follow me…”

He led them off the dock and into town, head held high. He’d garnered respect here, in the month he’d been here. He was a hard and honest worker, and knew how to build, how to handle animals, how to load up a wagon or a boat with ease. 

“The tavern has good eatin’ if you’s fancy yerself a meal,” he spoke softly to Alexander, who nodded and relayed the information to his mother. “How long are yens stayin’?”

“My _maman_ is traveling north, to Dallas; she has business there with her husband. I will be staying here until she returns.” Alexander replied before gesturing to the luggage that was being carried by more ship hands behind them. “Do you live here?”

“Sort of.”

“A traveler?”

“I jus’ came into town a month back myself,” Travis explained before jogging up the stairs to hold the door open for them.

“I do hope we will see more of each other, yes?”

A wink was sent to him. “I sure do hope so.”

* * *

October 20th, 1862  
9:00 p.m.  
Beaumont, Texas

* * *

Travis fell back on the bed with a breathless laugh, his eyes closing. Beside him lay Alexander, who was still coming down from the post-orgasm high. They lay side by side in the large bed, listening to the sound of singing coming from the tavern next door, to the sound of the whores offering their services down the road, to the sound of riverboats coming to port. 

“You,” Alexander began, turning on his side to face the blond, “are _très dangereux_.”

A snort escaped Travis as he wiped a hand over his face. “I could say th’same t’you, sir.”

Alexander hummed, leaning over to steal one, two, three kisses before he settled his head upon his chest. He ran his fingers across Travis’ stomach slowly, watching the muscles jump and tense from the sensation. “You should come with us to New Orleans,” he murmured, sky hues closing as exhaustion began to seep into him.

“I wouldn’ mind that,” Travis agreed softly as he slowly drug the pads of his fingers down Alexander’s arm, tracing over the scar on his bicep. “Go learn how t’be a doctor.”

“A doctor?” 

“Mhm.”

“You would be very good at that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You have steady hands.” A snort. “And good fingers.”

Travis let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You’s biased.”

“I am an artist!” Alexander defended, sitting up, a hand pressed to his chest in mock-offense. “I am supposed to notice these things about people! Your hands have seen years of work and yet they remain soft and gentle. Your skin is still tanned despite the cold months coming soon, like the sun lives within you.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of Travis’ chest. “You are Apollo, and I am nothing but a mere mortal, here to worship at your temple.” Travis fell silent, his brows raised in surprise. Alexander grinned at the stunned silence. “Or perhaps I am a siren of Poseidon’s seas, sent to lure you away.”

Travis grinned then, more teeth than anything, much like a wolf’s snarl. “Then drag me down to the depths of the ocean.” He reached up, tugging Alexander back down, capturing his lips in a biting kiss.

* * *

December 1st, 1862  
11:00 p.m.  
Beaumont, Texas

* * *

Smoke slowly drifted from Alexander’s lips as the pair lounged back in bed. Travis didn’t smoke- he didn’t enjoy the feeling of it filling his lungs. “Wha’s it like?” He asked, watching as a dream-like smile curled Alexander’s lips. 

“It is like nothing you have ever experienced, _mon amour_ ,” he murmured, setting the pipe aside. “It is like I am laying upon a bed of clouds, like I am drifting, as if I am here but I am not…”

Travis hummed, studying the curls of smoke. Opium, that’s what it was. Some of the Chinese migrants had brought a shipment with them, and now, it was everywhere- if you knew where to look. It wasn’t exactly illegal, but It was definitely frowned upon. Alexander swore up and down that it was perfectly safe in this form; that nothing bad would happen. 

It was like smoking a cigarette. 

…Travis didn’t believe it.

“I need’a git on home,” he broke the silence, watching as Alexander nodded slowly, his gaze elsewhere, eyes glassy. “I’ll swing by in th’mornin’, alright?”

“Of course, mon Apollo.” Alexander reached up, brushing his fingers against Travis’ arm. Travis leaned down, stealing a lingering kiss. He pulled himself from the bed and headed towards the door, pausing, looking back at the love of his life, memorizing every detail of that moment; the ivory dressing gown draped across his petit frame, the curve of his thigh, the dip at the base of his throat, the full lips that wrapped around the end of the pipe, the sky hues that had enraptured him from the very beginning. He left, closing the door after him, despite the pull in his gut that told him to ‘stay, stay, stay’.

That would be the final kiss they shared.

He came by early the next morning as the woman in the tavern next door played a haunting tune. The sky was overcast, threatening rain, or maybe snow. It was certainly cold enough.

He was humming when he opened the door to the suite Alexander occupied. He was humming as he waltzed through the sitting room, drawing the curtains. He was humming along to that damned piano, who’s notes could be heard even up here. He was humming when he found Alexander on the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing, opium pipe discarded. 

He was screaming for help when the maid burst in.

He was sobbing when the doctor arrived and declared Alexander dead.

He was silent when the coroner took his body away.

* * *

Unknown date, 1863  
Unknown time  
Somewhere along the Louisiana and Texas border

* * *

The wind was cold. The air was cold. The ground was cold. He was cold, or was he? He didn’t know. He didn’t feel anything, not anymore. His mind made no sense, had no thoughts within it. He was numb, numb, numb. He had left Beaumont and just… Walked. He had money in the sack- the sack… Where was the sack? He didn’t know. He thinks he dropped it somewhere along the way. How far back? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know when he’d fallen to his knees. 

He didn’t know when he’d fallen to his side.

He didn’t know how long he’d been laying there before she appeared.

Was she an angel? Was he dying? Was he already dead? He didn’t know. 

She pressed a canteen against his lips. He drank deep. The water tasted good. Cold. Blessed on his sore throat.

“You are dying,” her voice was soft and lilted just like his did. What was his name? The one with the eyes like the sky. He didn’t remember. “You are dying, mon enfant.” He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to go. “I can help you,” she whispered, her face coming into view. She was beautiful, her hair long and curling softly, her eyes a vivid shade of blue, like the summer sky on a clear July afternoon. She had freckles that dotted across her cheeks and the bridge of a delicate nose. She was pale. She was beautiful.

He didn’t want to die.

“Do you want me to help you?” She asked, brushing a gentle hand across his forehead.

He nodded.

She smiled so sweetly as she leaned down.

What was she doing?

He let out a hoarse sound as pain suddenly bloomed from his neck. She was killing him. She was killing him. He was going to die. This was the end. His mother’s face flooded his vision, her kind smile and her long black hair that she wore in a braid that fell over her shoulder, the tanned skin, the laugh lines, the kind dark eyes.

“Sleep, _mon enfant_. Sleep.”

He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes.

There was a roof over his head, a fire crackling somewhere. 

“You’re awake?” That voice. Angel? The angel?

He turned his head, blinking. “Where am I?”

“My house.”

“… What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“… What…”

“It’s the eighteenth of March.”

March.

_March._

It had been _December_ when he’d left Beaumont.

Travis sat up quickly, eyes wide as he slapped a hand over his neck. His brow furrowed as he searched for the wound, finding only a small cut on his neck. “What did you do to me?” He asked, turning to stare down the French woman.

“I saved you,” she replied, her head tilting to the side.

“What did you _do_.”

“I gave you a second chance.”

Travis snarled, _snarled_ like a fucking dog, and launched himself from the bed, storming towards her. She didn’t flinch as he stood less than a foot from her. “What. Did. You. _Do_?”

“I made you like me, mon enfant.”

“Don’t _call_ me that!”

“You are hungry, no?”

His stomach growled in answer.

“Sit. Eat. You need to build your strength back.” She gestured to the little table that had only two chairs. He stared at it. His stomach growled again. 

He sat down and watched as she poured him a bowl of soup. He didn’t hesitate as she set down the bowl in front of him, grabbing the offered spoon and beginning to practically inhale the food. It was so good, so warm, so _filling_. He had two more bowls before he sat back, a hand on his stomach. It was then that he looked in the bowl.

“… What-”

“You needed to eat.”

“Did you feed me.”

She clicked her tongue and rose to her feet, smoothing out the delicate lilac skirts of her dress. “I saved your life, and this is how you treat me? You Americans are so very rude.”

Travis shook his head slowly. “What did you do?”

“I gave you the gift of eternal life!” She exclaimed, turning- and baring fangs. Fangs. _Fangs_.

His vision went dark.

* * *

She explained it to him after he woke. She had been on the way home when she’d found him wandering in a daze. She asked him if he wanted her to save him, and he had said yes, so she had bit him and drank him dry and brought him back to her house and waited for him to rise. 

That had been a lot to take in, and he’d ended up passing out again.

When he woke, she fed him again. He didn’t ask what was in the stew. She didn’t offer to give up her recipe. 

He stayed with her for four more months, until it was summer, and she needed to move on.

“New Orleans.” He’d blurted out as he fixed the saddle on the beautiful black stallion that she’d gifted him. She had her own, a pinto mare. “I wanna go t’New Orleans.”

“Why there?” She asked as she mounted her mare.

He’d told her about Alexander before. “’Cause that’s where he was from. An’ I wanna see it. An’ I wanna go t’ the school there.”

“Okay.” She clicked her tongue, her mare turning around, prancing. “To New Orleans we shall go, then.”

“To New Orleans.”

* * *

July 14th, 1863  
4:00 p.m.  
New Orleans, Louisiana

* * *

“Is it everything you dreamed of, _mon enfant_?” The woman- he’d come to calling her Angel- asked as they stood in the house he’d begun to rent. She’d helped him, placing a down payment for the first three months- how she’d had that much in her purse, he didn’t know. He didn’t bother to ask, still too surprised that she’d been so kind as to do something like that. 

“It’s… Decent.” He rubbed the back of his neck; the apartment was _nice_ ; it wasn’t in the French Quarter- which wasn’t much of an issue, really; it had its own bathing room, and had more than one bedroom. It was thin width wise, but it was easily six bedrooms long, made of brick and mortar. “You didn’ have t’do this, ma’am; this is too much,” he tried to argue, only to for her to shake her head.

“ _Non, non_. You required a place to live; I would not have you live on the streets!” She smoothed out her skirts and looked around. “You will need more furniture. And you do need food, _mon enfant_ ; you require nutrients that blood cannot give you, such as vegetables.”

“I… Can manage.” He glanced towards the blonde, meeting her gaze- kind, but distant. Always distant. She kept a space between them.

“Good.” Clearing her throat, she took one last look around before sticking her hand out. “This is where I leave you, Travis.”

He froze, hand halfway extended. He’d never told her his true name, had he? “How did you…?”

A wink. “I know a lot of things, you see. I have been around for a very long time.”

Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all. “… Thank you. Fer everythin’. I… I owe you a lot. Even if I didn’ exactly _ask_ fer this.” He grasped her hand, giving it a firm shake.

She let out a peel of laughter that reminded him of carefree summer days. “Do take care of yourself, _mon ami_. I do hope we can meet again one day.” With that, she turned with a swirl of ruby skirts and stepped out of the door. She had a carriage waiting for her, loaded up with her belongings. “I am to return to France, long at last. It has been long since I have set foot on their soil.”

“I hope you stay safe, ma’am.” Travis stood in the doorway, watching as she descended the steps and climbed into her carriage. A man was sitting within; she had said that he was her brother. From his point of view, Travis wasn’t able to see any sort of discernible features. The carriage door was closed, and in the next moment they were taking off down the lane. 

A sigh escaped him as he closed the door and turned around, studying the house- his house. Three bedrooms, a bath, a sitting area, a dining area, a kitchen… 

A smile curled his lips. His home. He had a home.

… If only his mama could see him, now.

* * *

October 31st, 1863  
3:33 a.m.  
New Orleans, Louisiana

* * *

The sound of loud knocking, no, banging upon his front door had Travis nearly falling out of his bed, stumbling through the house to get there. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Hold yer horses!” He hollered, brows furrowed as he adjusted his shirt over his trousers. He had work in the mornin’ at the clinic, damn it.

Jerking the door open, he stared out at the figure hunched over on his porch. “Hello…?”

“You’s a doctor?” A woman, not just an oddly shaped figure, asked. “They’s said you’s a doctor.”

“I-I… Yes. Are you injured?” He tried to get a better look at the woman, but the moon was new and the light was not with him that night.

“Help me, please…” She whimpered, clutching her abdomen.

Travis poked his head out, looking around; was she someone’s? Shaking his head, he reached down and lifted her carefully, an arm under her back while the other slipped under her knees. He carried her in, kicking the door closed, listening to the whimpers of pain she let out. Not pregnant- she didn’t have an enlarged stomach, nor was there any sign of water having broken.

“What happened?” He asked as he laid her out on his dining room table, the only horizontal, sturdy surface that he could use. When he got no answer, he glanced towards her face- and cursed. She was out, no doubt from the pain. Or maybe it was the blood loss?

He left her there for a moment to go about, lighting the fire within the fire place, lighting candles on top of candles to get decent lighting. What it revealed had his stomach tensing, his heart stopping in his chest. “God on High,” he whispered as he took in the carnage that was her stomach.

The shirt had been shredded to an indecent amount; he ripped it the rest of the way, baring her torso. It was as if someone had planned on dissecting her while she was alive; a laceration started at the base of her throat and ended just above her naval. Upon closer inspection, he realized that this was no dissection; he’d seen this once upon a time, back home in Texas. 

Ritual. This had been a ritual.

She was lucky to be alive.

He ran to his guest room, where he kept his equipment. There had been a shortage of doctors or nurses, and he had steady hands, and he was a quick learner. He wasn’t a doctor, per say- but he’d sewn up soldiers and civilians alike, and had treated patients with yellow fever, and had birthed children in the three months he’d been here.

When he returned, she was still passed out. Good. She needed to stay out for this.

But what was curious was how her blood wasn’t oozing normally; had she already lost too much? Or was she…

A glance towards her face before he leaned down and drew in a slow breath through his nose. Oh. _Oh_.

She was like him.

… Well. That was a first.

Shaking his head, he gloved up and began the torturously slow procedure of stitching her closed. She was lucky; had the cut been any deeper, she would have lost her stomach on the ground. 

He stayed like that, leaned over the table, well into the morning, stitching her closed. The entire time she remained passed it. Had it not been for the occasional breath, he would have thought she’d died on his table. But she didn’t. So he continued to sew her closed, pulling the skin together over and over. He would pause on occasion to clean away the blood that oozed out across her.

He wasn’t sure what the time was; the sun had risen, and his stomach was grumbling, but they were done. She was stitched closed. He sponged her body clean of blood and dirt before covering her with a blanket. He didn’t wait around; instead, he went to the sitting room and collapsed upon the chaise lounge, falling asleep within minutes.

He awoke next late in the afternoon the sound of his kitchen cabinets opening and closing. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sat up and let his brain catch up with his mind. “If you’re hungry, I’m sure I could fix you somethin’ up,” he called, listening as what sounded like a pot fell to the ground, followed by a hiss of a curse.

Slowly, he wandered into the kitchen, pausing at the entryway as he took in the sight. She was still very much without a top, in a pair of men’s trousers, and her hair, which was styled in many harsh braids, had been tied up. She turned to him, eyes wide. She looked torn between making a run for it or fighting him. “You, uh…” He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze trained on her face. “You want a shirt?”

“Shirt?” She seemed confused for a moment before realization dawned on her. She covered herself as carefully as she could and nodded.

Travis hummed, leaving the kitchen to wander down the hall to his bedroom. Shirt retrieved, he returned, holding it out for her to cover herself with. He didn’t look, keeping his gaze averted, and waited until she was decent.

“You’s stitched me up,” she spoke softly; her voice was rough, and had a familiar twang to it. “I owe you.”

“Naw, you don’t.” He shook his head and leaned against the doorframe. “But I’d like t’know who sent you’s here, and how’d you end up on th’ wrong end of a blade.”

She shifted, grinding her teeth for a moment. “I was turned against my will, and then I was found out by…” she shook her head. “It ain’t important. They tried t’ “exercise” me, and I ran. An’ this woman- she was blonde, and kind- said you’s was like me, and you’s was a doctor, and you’s could fix me up.”

Blonde.

Woman.

Angel?

“Welll, it’s a good thing you got here in time,” he replied after a moment, pulling a chair out to settle down in. “Otherwise, I’m certain you wouldn’t be standing there right now. Careful how you move- you can still tear ‘em open.”

“Right…”

Travis ended up making them shrimp gumbo for dinner before sitting her down and talking. Her name was Azaria, and she was from Galveston. She’d come to New Orleans two years prior, looking for a chance at a new life. She would have gone north, but she didn’t want to risk being caught. So, she came here, and took on a new identity- much like what he’d done. 

She was good with her hands, too; she could sew and crochet and knit. He brought her with him to work after she healed up, claimed she was a relative, and got her hired on as a nurse. She stayed with him in his house; they had an easy partnership. A friendship. Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

July 5th, 1947  
7:00 p.m.  
Paris, France

* * *

“It’s his birthday today,” Travis spoke as he sipped the rich red wine. Azaria hummed as she cut into the meat. They’d been in France for a month; the war was over, and celebrations were still occurring. The treaties had been signed. Life was looking up, finally.

“How old would he be?”

“Too old to be alive, I’m afraid.”

“That’s sad.”

“It is.” Travis sighed, leaning back in his seat. “He would have loved this song, you know?” He gestured around them; the abandoned factory- or, well, not abandoned, but devoid of living life, echoed with the sound of Edith Piaf’s voice, singing _La Vie En Rose_. “He was a romantic. He loved t’ dance in th’ early mornin’ hours while the sun rose, and said I was his muse, his Apollo.”

Azaria gave a small, sad smile. “He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was,” he agreed with a nod, “he was taken too soon.”

“Opium, right?”

“Yeah.”

“A damn shame.”

Nodding slowly, he glanced around. “We should be headin’ on out, soon. We’s got ourselves a flight to catch.”

“Of course.” She wiped her mouth clean of the blood and rose to her feet, the ruby gown she wore hiding any sort of stain that might have transferred. 

Travis followed suit, stretching his arms up over his head. Around them lay men, ten in total- all dead. They weren’t anyone important, nor were they truly notable. They had followed them, and had planned on jumping the pair, but Azaria had other plans. And who was Travis to argue with dinner and a show?

They left arm in arm, stepping into the warm Paris night.

* * *

August 15th, 1965  
New Orleans, Louisiana  
11:00 p.m.

* * *

The music was muffled; an old barbershop-esque song. _Lollipop_ , if Travis remembered correctly. He moved towards the house quietly, brows furrowed. Larry and Azaria flanked him on either side; Maple was back in the car with Robert, acting as look outs. Something _bad_ had happened, she’d said. Something that needed their attention.

Which was why they had drived out to the boondocks in the middle of the night, armed to the teeth. The lights were on, the front door was wide open. The song repeated itself. Travis took a cautious step onto the porch and stilled, listening. No sound.

But something was here. He could feel it. It was _old_ and _wrong_ ; it smelled liked a crypt. 

He took another slow step forward, listening for _anything_. 

The music grew louder the closer he got. 

And the reek. He scrunched up his nose as he stepped into the house, only gag immediately. The front room was a mess, couches overturned, blood splattered along the walls. And further in, the bodies.

“Holy fuck knuckles,” Larry whispered, a hand over his mouth. Azaria shook her head, brows furrowed.

It looked like a slaughter house; the bodies had been strung up and gutted like deer, dressed down; their jaws had been broken, falling limp; no sight of any eyes, either. Travis scowled, shaking his head. 

Larry turned, and puked.

“Lightweight,” Azaria muttered as she stepped past Travis, past the bodies. “It’s still here.”

“Here, as in in the house, or here as in on the property?”

“Property.”

“Out we go.” Travis moved past the bodies, Larry trailing behind, his gaze on the floor. 

The back yard led straight to the swamp. Jaw clenching, Travis took lead once more, shotgun raised. His footsteps were near silent and sure on the wet ground, his gaze never faltering from the sight. His ears were straining, listening for any sign of movement. 

Azaria held the Bowie knife aloft, loose, relaxed. Larry was the newest one to this, clutching the baseball bat with a white knuckled grip. That damn song was still playing behind them in the house.

They’d need to burn it down.

This was the work of their own. Or, should be.

“It’s gone.” Azaria spoke as they neared the water’s edge. Travis faltered, gun lowering. “I can’t track it anymore. The water takes the scent.”

“Damn it,” Travis hissed, shaking his head. “Let’s… Go back. We gotta torch the house.”

Larry turned, leading them back. Travis paused, looking over his shoulder. He let out a surprised noise, brows furrowing. He could have sworn he’d seen blonde hair floating on the surface of the water. Or maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. The longer he stared, the more fuzzy his vision grew.

“Trav?” Larry called, worry evident in his voice. “You okay?”  
“  
Yeah,” Travis replied, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He turned his back on the swamp, on the head of blonde hair that peeked up from beneath the water, with eyes the shade of a Texas July afternoon.

* * *

October 26th, 1989  
Anderson, Texas  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Travis took careful steps through the woods. They were, technically, on private property- but not for long. The creek was ahead; he could hear it babbling. After they crossed that, it was free land. Land his family still owned, but did nothing with. Rain began to fall lightly, creating a chorus within the forest as birds chirped and deer ran. 

He stilled at the creek, staring down at the clear water. Larry quietly stepped up beside him, placing a gentle hand in the small of his back. Azaria was farther back with Ashley. Maple and Robert had stayed behind with the rental car. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Larry asked as Travis blinked rain water out of his eyes. “We can turn around and go back.”

“No.” His voice was soft, yet his tone full of anger and remorse. “No, I need to do this.”

“Okay.”

He drew in a breath- and stepped upon the wooden bridge that someone had built, crossing the creek and stepping onto the property that belonged to the Phelps family.

From there, he led them up the trail- overgrown, not taken care of. Everything was wild, here. He kept his head high, kept his gaze ahead. Thunder rumbled, the sound growing louder as the storm neared. But Travis didn’t stop, not as they stepped into the field. The grass was tall, well up to his shoulders. But he knew this ground. He knew this land like the back of his hand. Every step closer made his shoulders tighten, made it harder to breathe. 

“This is where you grew up?” Larry asked, turning in a slow circle. “Wow…”

“It… Was nice.” Travis shrugged. “I mean, if you don’t count the times I was beaten black and blue by my father.”

Azaria let out a soft hiss. 

“I had two siblings. Masie Joy and Stephen,” he paused, staring at the foundation of the house, all that was left of it. “I don’t know what happened to them.”

Ashley quietly walked over and knelt down, pressing a hand to the ground. She didn’t speak. None of them did. Instead, they stood as the rain fell, allowing Travis his time.

Travis was glad it was raining. It hid the tears that streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe at his face. He stood and breathed and let the rain fall over him, cleansing his soul.

His gaze fell on the far side of the field, where a grand oak tree stood. And beneath it stood a pile of rocks, artfully stacked. He didn’t speak as he began to walk, stepping over the brick and rock that had been his house once; here was the kitchen, here the bedroom, here the back porch. The cows would be back here; their bull in a separate pen. The chickens would be to the right. Masie and Joseph would be laughing as they ran through the field. 

He could hear his mother’s flute, even now. The soft, somber tone, the smooth waver. Beautiful. She would sing on occasion, too; he couldn’t remember the words, or the meaning of them. But he remembered the beat, the way the words lilted. He remembered that, and her voice- soft as silk and steady as a stream. 

He knelt down before the grave, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come home, mama,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I never came back for you- but… I don’t think you would have liked to know what came of me.” He reached up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I did go to Beaumont, you know? I met me a fine young man. His name was Alexander- he was a poet. An’ he loved me. He called me his Apollo,” A hiccupping sob escaped him as he shook his head. “He died young. I hope you didn’- or maybe you did. You would’a gotten away from poppa.”

“Maybe you’s still here, somehow. In the wind, in the trees. Maybe you’s watchin’ me cry like a baby righ’ now.” A soft, bitter laugh left him. “Mama, I’m sorry. I should’a stayed wit’ you. I shouldn’t have run. But I can’t change th’ past. I can only make my future, right? I gots… I gots some good friends by my side, now. They takin’ care of me, an’ I’m takin’ care of them. But I wanted to come home, t’see you. To…

“To say goodbye. ‘Cause I never got to. Not until now. An… An’ now I’m ready. I know you’s here. I know you are.” He took the rock he’d had in his jacket pocket ever since he’d left New Orleans out, swiping his thumb across the smooth top. “This rock comes from th’ Gulf of Mexico. I found it. And now it’s yours.” He reached out, placing it delicately atop the rock mound. “I gotta get goin’. We got a… This thing. A music thing. Called a concert- I think you woulda loved them. They’s wild and fun and people sing an’ dance together. I… I know you woulda loved them.”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, he rose to his feet. “I don’… I don’ remember none of your songs no more. Or none of the funeral rites. I’m sorry… I’ll… I’ll come back again one day. I hope you’s at peace now… I love you.” Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he stood there for another moment, letting himself sob in peace.

Ashley stood between Azaria and Larry, watching. She could hear Larry sniffling beside her; Azaria was silent, but she knew that she was crying. They all hurt for him. She took a step forward, but Azaria grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“Let him come back to us when he’s ready,” the woman whispered, shaking her head. Ashley nodded in understanding.

Larry watched as Travis’ head dropped back, his eyes closed. As his lips moved, speaking too softly for any of them to hear; words meant only for his mother. And then, he was turning, head bowed low, as he walked across the field back to them. He met Travis halfway, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. Travis was shaking- from the cold, from his sobs, Larry didn’t know. But he stood there, holding him, until Ashley’s voice broke through.

“Travis- Travis, look,” She whispered, the pair having joined them. Travis pulled his head away and turned, brows furrowing as he looked towards the oak tree. His heart stilled at the sight of the wolf, sitting calmly beside the mound of rocks. Its coat was black as night, it’s eyes just as dark. But it sat there calmly, watching them. Travis swallowed harshly and nodded, once.

It rose to its feet and turned, disappearing into the woods.

“… Let’s go home.” Travis murmured, a soft, small smile curling his lips. None of them spoke as they walked back through the field. Larry watched as Travis let his fingers drift over the tall grass, as he looked around the field one last time, as the tears continued to mix with rain on tanned cheeks. 

They were halfway across the creek when the sound of a single wolf’s howl filled the air around them- the howl long, wavering, sending chills across their skin. The rain began to lighten. Travis tilted his head back and howled. Azaria was the first to join him, then Ashley, and finally- Larry. The four of them mimicking the wolf as best they could.

Travis led them back to the car, his shoulders no longer slumped, his hands no longer shaking. Larry draped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple before they climbed into the cars, soaking wet, but all of them feeling a little lighter. 

“So, back to the hotel?”

“Yeah.” Travis nodded, settling down into the back seat. Maple glanced back at him, a brow raised.

“… Is it done?” She asked, her voice soft, gentle. 

“It’s done.” Travis replied, his gaze drifting towards the woods across from them. “It’s done.”

* * *

October 31st, 1991  
5:00 a.m.  
New Orleans, Louisiana

* * *

Travis shifted in bed, stretching his arms up and over his head. It was early, the birds not yet singing, the sun not yet rising. Rolling over, he reached out, feeling the empty space in bed. Brow furrowing, he sat up, looking around his bedroom. No one.

Quietly, he slipped out, grabbing his shirt and tugging a shirt on. The apartment was quiet, but he could smell coffee being brewed. Walking down the hallway from his bedroom, he peeked around the corner, pausing at the sight. Red hair no longer styled in a mohawk, a strong back covered with black ink in a swirling, intricate design of wings. 

Robert was making coffee.

“It’s early,” Travis mumbled as he shuffled over, his arms slipping around Robert’s middle. He let his forehead rest against the skin between his shoulder blades. “Why’re you so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Robert replied, a smile curling his lips. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Naw,” Travis pressed a kiss to the smooth skin. “It’s fine.” 

“Any plans fo’ tonight?” He asked as he turned in Travis’ grasp, reaching up to card his fingers through the blond locks. Travis looked up, a brow raised; he was still trying to wake up.

“Not that I know of…” He mumbled before yawning. “I don’t gotta go into th’ shop today, neither. They closed.”

“So, what you’re sayin’ is, I git you all to myself for _all_ day and night?” Robert teased, tipping Travis’ chin up. A sleepy grin broke across Travis’ lips.

“Yeah, seems like you do.” He agreed, standing up on his toes to capture Robert’s lips in a slow, gentle kiss. 

“Come hand out candy wit’ me an’ Maple tonight. We can all dress like vampires.”

“Oh my God that is so tacky. I’m in.”

The pair stood in each other’s arms, snickering in the early morning light, as the coffee brewed and filled the apartment with the scent. Travis began to hum softly, and Robert picked up on the song almost immediately. 

“ _Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose…_ ”


	17. Fall On Your Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ceilings shouldn't have holes in them.  
> Psych Wards are Nice.  
> Blankets blankets blankets!  
> Run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi okay SO trigger warning time because this chapter involves someone going, VOLUNTARILY, to the hospital for a 72 hour stay in the Psych unit. Nothing *horrible* happens, just a slight mental breakdown.  
> Also, I'm sorry if this chapter seems hella choppy? I honestly didn't know how else to break it up, and I didn't want to split it up into two chapters.  
> So, have... 22? pages of whiplash.   
> Also, a big thank you and shoutout to my darling friend Laurel who beta'd part of this chapter for me. I owe you so much.   
> And as always, thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos and just... Everything? It makes me so happy to see y'all so invested and excited. And I love the anons I keep getting on tumblr about this. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ https://fakexface.tumblr.com where I scream about SF and this fic and some of the other fics in this fandom that I'm in love with, as well as screaming about work and daily life.   
> I also post snippets from each chapter and hints on there, and some aesthetics for how the characters look in this, music that fits into the fic, etc.   
> Without further ado  
> The fic.

_“Fall on your knees,_  
 _O hear the angels' voices,_  
 _O night divine…”_  
- _O Holy Night_

* * *

December 15th, 1991  
7:00 a.m.

* * *

New Orleans was pretty during winter, Sal had decided. The Christmas lights strung up everywhere, the French Quarter using Mardi Gras beads in their decorations, the cooler air that wasn’t as humid as it normally was. It was beautiful and made him almost feel like he was home. 

Almost.

They got a Christmas tree for the first time in years. Since he and his father had decided to go home for Thanksgiving, they would be staying here for Christmas. He had an aunt and a few cousins that were coming in this week so they could celebrate both his eighteenth birthday and Christmas before heading back to Jersey for the New Year. 

But this also meant that school was out. He’d taken his last final on Friday, spent Saturday sleeping, and today- today, he was awake _early_ because Travis was coming to pick him up to go last-minute Christmas shopping. Maple would be tagging along, too- but she had some things to do first. She’d find them around ten at Café du Monde. 

Humming as he dried his hair with the hair dryer, he studied his face. Actual face, not the prosthetic that acted as his face. Larry had asked him permission to paint him without the prosthetic, and it took him a while to get comfortable with that, but eventually, he settled down on Larry’s bed, and Larry sketched him- again and again, until he was satisfied with the end result. It had taken a few hours, but Sal didn’t mind. He liked being with Larry.

“I’m having a blue Christmas without you,” Sal sang softly, closing his eye. Elvis had been a favorite of his mother. Head flipping over, he dried the roots of his hair at the base of his skull. He had surprisingly thick hair, really- another trait he got from his mom, just like his freckles. 

Eye opening, he stared at his legs before flipping back up- and nearly dropping the hairdryer.

“Damn it, dad!” He clutched his chest before fumbling with the dryer, turning it off. 

Henry stood with his palms raised, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “Sorry, sorry- I tried calling out, but I guess you couldn’t hear me…”

“No, no I couldn’t.” Shaking his head, he set aside the hair dryer. “You’re up early.”

“So are you. Plans?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed as he brushed the tangles out of his hair- again. “Travis is gonna come pick me up, and we’re gonna go do some last-minute Christmas shopping. Maple’s gonna join us later.”

“Oh?” Henry leaned against the door frame, a brow raised. “Todd isn’t going?”

“Todd’s sick.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t wanna get sick.”

“Good point.”

“And Larry has plans with his mom today.” Sal answered the unspoken question.

Henry hummed and pushed away from the door frame. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready in peace. I’m gonna make some eggs- do you want any?”

“Mm,” Sal thought on it for a moment, “nah. I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.”

Henry disappeared down the hallway, halfway closing the bathroom door as Sal turned back to his reflection. He hadn’t put his prosthetic eye in- not yet. It was still sitting in a cup on the counter. Blinking once, twice, his brows furrowed as the lights flickered.

Odd.

His brush…? “Ah, shit,” he muttered as he leaned over, grabbing it off of the ground. Straightening up, he brushed out his bangs before sweeping them to the side so that he could see his reflection clearly.

Only to nearly _drop_ his brush again.

He was frozen in place.

There was a man behind him.

A man.

_A man was behind him in his bathroom in his apartment._

He couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t _breathe_.

He was tall, towering over him easily; his hair was dark and fell to his shoulders in waves. He couldn’t see his face- or maybe he didn’t _want_ to see his face. He had a mustache and a beard. And the smell.

Death. Decay. Crypt. Swamp. Swamp. _Swamp_.

He blinked, and-

He was alone.

Alone.

Alone?

He managed to move, spinning around, pulling open the shower curtain, peeking out of the hallway. His dad was still in the kitchen, singing O Holy Night (rather badly, really- he can’t hit those high notes…).

Swallowing harshly, he closed the bathroom door quietly, and set his brush aside. Shaking, scarred hands spread out on the cold bathroom counter. He drew in a slow breath before exhaling harshly. He was just… Seeing things, right? Right. He raised his head and stared his reflection down. This happened occasionally. It was part of the PTSD. Right?

“It was nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“Or was it?” A voice whispered. Sal spun around, heart pounding in his chest. Where? Where?

Up.

_Above him._

He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t _want_ to _look_ up. Tears filled his eye as he stood stock still, staring at the wall, breathing hard. Swallowing hard. Shaking. Slowly, he looked up, and was met with a living nightmare. Hair, stringy, long and not quite red, not quite black hung from a head that was misshapen, a slice along the right temple stretched into the hair, but oozed no blood; the face was pale, too pale, the eyes inhumanly wide and entirely black as night, the mouth too wide, too wide, too _wide_ and full of teeth that were too sharp for a human. 

And the body, the body was twisted around like a damn Twizzler, as if the creature had no spine. And black. Not just dark, but black, their arms and legs were black as if they’d dipped them into black paint, and claws- oh, god, there was a clawed hand reaching out to him, to touch him. “Are you sure it was just nothing, Salvador Fisher?”

Sal let out a piercing shriek that had Henry dropping the skillet and running to the bathroom.

* * *

December 15th, 1991  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

“What do you mean, he’s in the _hospital_?” Larry exclaimed, staring at Travis, who looked far more shaken up than he normally _ever_ did.

“I mean, I went to go pick him up, and I met his dad in the parkin’ lot and he had Sal loaded up an’ was takin’ him to the hospital. He had a…” He shifted, shaking his head. “Henry said he was havin’ a mental break down.”

Larry’s face paled as he slumped back against the door frame. Lisa stood behind him, a hand pressed to her lips. “Oh, that poor boy…”

“Do you know what happened?” 

“No… Henry said to come to the hospital later- that was at like, seven this morning.” Travis rubbed the back of his neck, brows furrowing. “I was gonna go grab Ash- Maple’s waitin’ in the parkin’ lot with Robert.”

“I’m comin’.” Larry backpedaled into the apartment, grabbing his wallet. “Quieres venir con nosotros, mamá?” He asked, glancing towards Lisa, who had retreated to the kitchen.

“No te vas Voy a hacer algo de comida reconfortante para Henry. He must be torn apart right now,” she replied, flashing a small smile. “You go. I’ll be fine here.”

Larry nodded and grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, slipping it on over his long-sleeved shirt. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Drive safe, Travis!” Lisa called after them as Larry closed the door. He ducked his head against the cool wind blowing. Brown hues focused on the ground as they made their way to the parking lot, pausing at the sound of metal hitting metal.

Terrance.

He back tracked, ignoring Travis’ confused call of his name. He stormed up to the door, not hesitating as he kicked it once, twice, three times- hard enough for it to rattle on its hinges. An alarmed squawk sounded from within.

“You best remember my threat from earlier, Terrance!” He yelled through the thick wood. “If I find out you’s part of this, I swear on my life,” he lowered his voice to barely above a growl, “I will come in there and rip you limb from limb.”

No response came from within.

Jaw clenching, Larry stalked from the door, back towards Travis’ truck.

“So, you think this has something to do with everythin’?”

“I ain’t sure. But somethin’ ain’t right. It’s been quiet since Halloween… Too quiet.” Larry shook his head, pausing as he took in their surroundings. “You know, this’s been th’ first year that we ain’t had no hurricane hit.”

“… Weird.”

Sighing, he climbed into the passenger side of Travis’ truck, giving Maple and Robert a wave.

“We’ll meet yens at the hospital. Charity, right?”

“Yeah. We’re gonna grab Ash, and then we’ll be over. Wait for us.” Travis called back as Larry closed the door. Maple rolled her window up and pulled out, going left while Travis followed behind, turning right. 

Silence filled the cab of the truck, an unease that was almost palpable. Larry shifted, arms crossing over his chest as he slumped down in the seat. Travis tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Christmas lights blinked on around them as they drove. Happy families walked along the sidewalks. Children played in the yards. Life… Went on. Continued on, as if everything was normal.

But it wasn’t normal.

None of this was normal.

“Do you think…” Travis began, pulling Larry from his thoughts as they turned onto Ashley’s street. “Do you think that it was Red?”

“If it was Red, Sal would be dead. Not in a psych unit.” 

“… Then what…?” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Exactly. Unless Sal really _did_ have himself a mental breakdown given all th’ shit that’s been happenin’, then I don’t know.”

Travis worried his lip as he pulled up to the curb. Ashley was already outside waiting. Larry slid out of the truck so that she could get into the middle. 

“He’s at Charity,” Larry answered her unspoken question as they settled back in. Travis didn’t wait to pull away and start the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital. Ashley reached over, slipping her fingers between his. He didn’t pull away.

The trio sat in silence the entire drive, up until they parked beside Maple’s black 1989 corvette. Maple and Robert were leaning against the hood, waiting.

“Ready for this?” Maple asked softly, her brows furrowing. “Y’all know we probably ain’t gonna be allowed t’see him.”

“I know.” Larry squared his shoulders, staring up at the building with a deep frown. “But we can see Henry. An’ I wanna ask him what happened.”

“BE _gentle_.” Maple all but demanded as she led them towards the hospital. “An’ don’t… Flip out.”

“Why would we- oh. Right. Hospital. Blood.” Ashley rubbed the back of her head.

Robert slid closer to Travis, wrapping his arm around the blond’s shoulders. Travis leaned against him, lips pressed together. “Feel weird comin’ to a hospital?”

“Considering I used to _work_ here back in th’ day, yeah. Feels a lil’ odd.”

Larry blocked them out, blocked out Ashley’s worried glances, blocked it all out. All he focused on was getting inside and finding Henry.

Which was easier than he’d thought. The man was in the waiting room, sitting alone. The waiting room itself was surprisingly empty aside from a pair of parents, the woman obviously expecting a child. Maybe even there for labor pains?

“Henry?” Larry called out softly, watching as the man in question jerked up, his eyes, red rimmed, widening. He dragged a hand through his thinning hair and gave a small, tired smile. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

“I…” Henry paused, brow furrowing. “I had a chocolate bar from the vending machine… Earlier?”

Maple ‘tsk’ed, shaking her head. “C’mon, sugar, lets git ya some food. You wanna stay here? Or do you wanna go out an’ git somethin’?” She asked softly, her head tilting to the side.

Henry shook his head. “I’d like to stay here.”

“Cafeteria it is, then.” Larry watched Henry stand, watched as his gaze flickered to the hallway before back to them. “… Robert, stay here. Come git us if th’ doctor comes.”

“Roger that.” Robert plunked down in a threadbare chair, arms crossing over his chest. Henry faltered, taking in the appearance of the man- the black and red mohawk, the spikes, the piercings, the tattoos…

Oops.

They walked through the halls, Travis leading them, to the cafeteria. “I’m real thankful that you all came here,” Henry spoke up suddenly. Larry nodded, a small smile on his lips as he placed a gentle hand between Henry’s shoulders. 

“Of course.”

Maple wouldn’t let Henry get his own food. She forced him to sit down while they went and scoped out the selection. Larry settled down across from the parent, taking in the exhaustion etched within his face.

“… What happened, Mr. Fisher?”

“I don’t know, Larry.” He shook his head, brows furrowing. “I checked in on him not even five minutes before hand, and he was _fine_. A little spooked, but that was my fault. He was smiling and getting ready to go shopping with Travis and Maple. And I went to go fix us some scrambled eggs, and the next thing I know…” He pauses, gaze drifting to the table. “He’s screaming bloody murder.” 

Travis quietly sat down beside Larry, sliding a bowl of gumbo in front of him. Maple settled in beside Henry, sliding a tray full of gumbo, a bottle of water, and a banana. Ashley got herself a cup of coffee and set another one down for Henry with creamers and a few sugar packets. 

“And he’s just… Sitting on the floor, scratching.”

Larry’s stomach dropped. “… Scratching?” He asked softly, watching as tears filled Henry’s eyes.

“Scratching at his face, at his arms. Anything. It took all my strength to hold him down and get him calmed enough that he wasn’t sobbing and screaming hysterically about-” he cut off, shaking his head.

“About…?” Maple pressed gently.

“About a creature that was apparently on the ceiling. But I didn’t see anything. But he swore it was there, and it was talking to him.”

A chill swept across the group. 

“… How long’s he gonna stay here?” Travis ventured to ask, carefully switching the subject. 

“He agreed to do a seventy-two hour stay.” Henry dragged a hand over his face before beginning to eat. “This… Isn’t his first stay. It’s his first _here_ , which always nerve wracking. But this isn’t his first time.”

“He’s…” Larry didn’t know what words to use to ask the question he wanted to know the answer to.

Henry swallowed a bite of gumbo. “He’s stayed three other times back in Jersey. The first time was… It was after the accident, before he was even completely released from the hospital. The second was in fifth grade- the bullying… It got bad. And the third was two years ago.”

They let the information settle in as they ate the hospital food. It was surprisingly not horrible, somehow. Someone needed to compliment the cook.

Larry was about to speak when Robert suddenly appeared. “The doctor wants to talk to you,” he spoke softly, his brow furrowed. Henry was up and walking quickly away from them all. Larry wanted to follow, but he knew better. This was not his place, despite how much he wished it was.

This was not his place.

“So…” Maple began, poking at her orange. “… We need t’git t’Sal’s place. Look it over. Or, I do, at least.”

“Mom has keys t’every apartment.” Larry sighed, rolling his shoulders. “If ya want, yens can go on and tell her what we know. I’ll… Stay here.”

“We’ll stay here.” Ashley rectified.

“We’ll stay here.” Larry stated.

Maple nodded and glanced up towards Robert. “We’ll wait an’ see what’s gonna happen with Sal…”

They ate in relative silence; the sounds of the hospital filtering in around them. The stale smell that reminded Larry of bleach, of the cleaning agents his mom used, of death. Everything was so sterile, so _white_ and ivory and tan, all the faces around them bleak and drawn and eyes that were red rimmed with tears and exhaustion. 

Slowly, they wandered back to the waiting room, finding Henry sitting with his head in his hands. 

“Mr. Fisher?”

He looked up, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “He’s fine, now. They’re monitoring him. He’s in his own room- they… He’s still- they believe he could still be a threat to others around him, so he’s in solitary for now.” A yawn escaped him. “He’ll be in there for the next three days- he’ll be out by Wednesday, Thursday at latest if he, well, if he… You know. Behaves.”

Larry sighed; a wash of uneasy relief fell across their shoulders. 

“You need t’go home and git some rest, Mr. Fisher.” Maple spoke gently, a calming hand pressing to his shoulder.

“I-… I do. I just,” a glance towards the hallway. “I… don’t want to leave him.”

“He’s in good hands, now, Mr. Fisher, sir.” Travis reassured. “They know what they’s doin’ here.”

“I know, it’s just… That’s my boy.” And here came the tears. “That’s my boy in there.” Maple looked towards Larry, distress written across her face as Henry began to sob into his hands. She sat beside him, rubbing his back in gentle circles. “That’s my boy, and I can’t help him.”

“But you _are_ helpin’ him,” Maple disagreed with a shake of her head. “You’s helpin’ him by gettin’ him in here.”

* * *

He stared at the wall, his mind foggy. They gave him some sort of sedative; he was still wired when he got here, apparently. Still too much of a threat to himself- and to others, apparently. They didn’t tell him that. He knew that himself. He hadn’t had a breakdown this bad since he was younger. The walls were white on white on white. Minimalism to the next level. There was another bed in here, but it wasn’t occupied. And there was a cubby where he’d placed his shoes (vans, no strings. Slip ons only). His clothes… Were somewhere. The nurse put them up for him earlier. 

He did remember to grab his pillow from his bed and snag the blanket that Ashley had given him a few weeks back. His dad grabbed him his body wash and a shower pouf, and some shampoo. He couldn’t bring conditioner- it had alcohol in it. They didn’t let anything with alcohol in. That was a big no-no. 

He’d made sure to grab one of his notebooks. He wasn’t allowed to have a pen, but he could use a pencil. That was nice. The nurses here were nice, too; there was one, her name was Matilda? Midata? Minerva? He didn’t remember. But she called him “sweetie” and was very kind. She had pretty hair. It was blonde. Not the same shade his hair naturally was, but it was still pretty. 

He’d had his blood taken for tests- to make sure he didn’t have anything in his system, and for other things he wasn’t too sure about. And then he’d had to pee in a cup (which is always awkward) while his one-on-one followed him to the bathroom and stood outside it. They talked about food. And then came the questions. What caused this breakdown, do you know why you saw this thing, do you normally have hallucinations…

He’d answered them all truthfully. 

There were others here. He didn’t go to group- it was too late. But he saw them on his way to his room. Six, that’s how many he counted. That was nice. But right now he was alone. But that wasn’t bad. He could sit in the silence and just breathe.

And think about what he’d seen.

It hadn’t been a dream.

It had been there. It had been there. _It had been there_. That wasn’t a hallucination. Because his hallucinations weren’t like that. He’d taken his medication. It wasn’t a side affect of his migraines. It had been there, because it had dropped something on his arm. That’s what he had tried to get off.

… But he’d panicked.

And that panic turned to a full-fledged meltdown that was bad enough that he wanted to come here. Because he was scared of what he’d do to himself. He wasn’t _suicidal_ , but…

But he didn’t want to risk it. And he didn’t want to worry his dad any more than he already did.

Maybe he needed this. Maybe he needed to get away from Addison Apartments for a few days. This was good. He knew this was good. They were here to help him.

But, _fuck_ , the beds were uncomfortable! 

“Salvador?” The nurse called as she poked her head in. “You ready for your medication?”

“Yeah.” Sal nodded, and reached up to adjust his mask- only to pause. Right. No mask when he was alone in his room. “And- and can you just call me Sal? I don’t really go by Salvador.”

“Of course!” She pushed the door open wider, revealing the nurse’s station outside of it. The lights were dimmed; it _was_ past nine. “You gonna go to sleep soon?”

“Maybe.” A shrug. “I have insomnia, so…”

“Oh, sugar, I know _all_ about that. Why do you think I work the night shift?” 

“How long’s the night shift?”

She grimaced. “Seven in the evening to seven in the morning.”

“Twelve hours?” His eye widened in surprise. “That’s… A lot.”

“Sometimes it’s longer. It just depends on the day.”

“… Is this Trazodone?”

“… Yes. It’s gonna help you sleep tonight.”

He nodded and accepted the medication, swallowing the pills down with a cup of water. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and pulled up a chair. “Naw, sugar. I took this job for a reason. I like workin’ here. Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go for it.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “So, you’re from Jersey? What’s it like up there? The farthest north I’ve ever gone is St. Louis.”

He perked up, pulling his legs up to sit criss-cross before fixing the throw around his shoulders. “It’s a lot like New Orleans, except… Newer? The buildings are closer, and there’s a lot more noise, somehow…”

* * *

December 15th, 1991  
11:53 p.m.

* * *

Maple stood beside Larry outside of Addison Apartments, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t bother with a jacket or a coat- nothing; why bother when they couldn’t get cold? Larry had grabbed his leather jacket, but that was more out of habit than anything. 

“So…” She trailed off, lips pursing. “How are we gonna do this?”

“We’re gonna hole up in the apartment ‘cross from Sal’s- it’s empty. I got mom’s keys. And we’s gonna watch. And wait.”

“A stakeout. Lovely.” She gestured for him to move. “Lead the way.”

Larry sighed, leading her across the courtyard to the left side apartments, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around. “We’re-”

“Being watched,” she finished for him, reaching out to hook her arm through his. “Let’s make this look like two teens being idiots.”

“I can do that.” A grin spread across his lips as he pulled his arm free and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close, into him. “Can you tell where from?”

“Up, across. Not Sal’s place. But… In that general area.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe they’s voyeuristic.”

“… That ain’t helpin’ one bit, Maple.”

Maple let out a snort that turned into a fit of giggles as they climbed up the stairs. Larry fumbled with the keys for a second- even if he knew exactly which key went where- before unlocking the door and pushing it open. They stumbled in, Larry closing it behind him.

He didn’t lock it.

“And now…”

“We wait.”

* * *

December 16th, 1991  
2:00 a.m.

* * *

The scream woke Sal up from a dead sleep. It took him a moment of bewilderment to realize that no, it was not _him_ that had screamed, but it was down the hall. A wince of sympathy crossed his features; he knew how bad the nightmares could get.

He rolled over in the uncomfortable hospital bed, staring at the window. His brain was still foggy- this time from the Trazodone. He reached up, rubbing at his eye socket- the empty one. His eye was… Somewhere in the room. He didn’t bother getting up to look for it. That was a problem for Morning Sal. Right now, it was Sleepy Sal. Sleepy Sal, who was falling back to sleep, back into his dreams.

His dreams.

Could they be called dreams if they were more like memories? Dreams mixed with memories? He didn’t know.

All he knew was that his mom was there, singing one of her French lullabies, brushing his hair.

That was nice…

Something hit his window.

He didn’t open his eyes to see.

Probably a bird. Or a bat.

… Yeah. A bat.

* * *

Meanwhile…

* * *

Larry let out a frustrated noise as he stalked across the empty living room. 

“Sit _down_.” Maple hissed, grabbing hold of his hand and yanking hard enough to send him toppling to the ground. 

“ _Ouch_ ,” he grumbled, sprawled out on the ground. “I should’a asked Sal what time this shit normally happens.”

“Yeah, you should’a.”

Rubbing her hands over her face, a yawn slipped free. They had been here for two hours already- and nothing. _Nothing_.

“Maybe it only comes when Sal’s here?”

“… Maybe?”

Larry sighed, shaking his head as he pushed himself back up to his feet. He went to open the door, only to freeze in his steps as a loud _**BANG**_ sounded. Maple jerked, her eyes wide as she stared at the door, a hand pressed to her chest.

_BANG._ _BANG._ _BANG BANG BANG_ _**BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG-**_

Larry jerked the door open, ready to face God knows what, only to find…

Nothing.

“What…?” Maple asked, taking one, two, three steps forward before spinning on her heel.

“Go, go go go GO!” She yelled, all but shoving Larry out of the door before slamming it closed behind her.

“What?”

“ _ **GO**_.” She repeated. Larry wanted to open the door, wanted to go back in there and see what had Maple so frazzled, but one look at her face- at the black streaks of eyeliner that coated her cheeks, at the wide eyes, at the pure _terror_ he saw there- it had him grabbing her hand and running down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The door banged open behind them.

Maple whimpered.

Larry didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Just gripped Maple’s hand tighter as they ran out of Addison Apartments and into the parking lot. Out of the parking lot. To the sidewalk, further, until they were nearly in the French Quarter.

Only then did they pause in an alleyway. 

“What the _fuck_ did you see?” Larry asked as Maple shook her head, her brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment, dragging a shaking hand through her hair.

“What do you mean, you don’t _know_?”

“I don’t _know_!” She yelled, throwing her hands up into the air. “I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know. I- I saw _it_.”

“ _It_?” He frowned, head tilting to the side. “What do you mean, it?”

“It, as in, I don’t know what the fuck it was. I don’t…” She shook her head.”

“Was it like the… The crossroads? The demon?”

“No? Yes? I don’t know. All I knew was that if we didn’t get _out_ of that apartment, we would have-” She cut herself off, her eyes widening.

Larry’s stomach dropped.

“Henry.”

* * *

December 16th, 1991  
8:00 a.m.

* * *

Breakfast time. Sal rubbed at his eyes and yawned. Scrambled eggs and toast. Simple food. Easy on his stomach. He’d requested to shower before he ate- he wanted to feel _clean_. And they let him. He didn’t take long, scrubbing his hair and then his body. He brushed his teeth and dressed in the sweater and sweatpants he’d packed- neither one having any sort of strings or ties.

But eating…

“I can eat in here, right?” The hospital back in Jersey let him. 

“… I think they’d rather you eat with everyone else, but you can. I can sit with you, if you want company?” This was a different nurse; she had natural red hair that was really, _really_ curly. Sal liked it.

Larry would like it, too. He’d probably compare it to an autumn sunrise or something artistic. 

… He missed Larry. And Ashley. And Travis. And Todd. And Neil and Chug and Maple and Robert and his dad.

Dad.

He ate his breakfast in relative silence, taking his medication afterwards. He had group later. But he had to talk to the therapist, first. That wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

“Sal?” The redhead spoke up- when had she left? When had they taken his breakfast? Had he dissociated? “There’s a call for you.”

A call. A call!

She handed him his prosthetic, helping him secure it before shuffled out in his slippers- they were fuzzy and blue, a gift from Lisa. Taking the phone, he nodded his thanks. “Hello?”

_“Heya, kiddo. How was your night?”_ Henry spoke, his voice a relief that Sal hadn’t expected to receive. 

“It was okay. I slept pretty much all night.” 

_“Good, I’m glad. Did you eat already?”_

“Yeah, I had some scrambled eggs and toast. The eggs weren’t as good as yours are.”

_“Medication?”_

“Already taken.”

_“Awesome. I’m… I’m glad you’re doing good. Hey, there’s some kids here who wanna say hi- do you have time?”_

“Yeah- yeah, I have a bit of time.” Sal almost danced on spot, shifting his weight side to side. 

_“Alright, here they are- hey, I love you. I’ll check in with you later!”_ His voice faded out as someone took over the phone.

_“Hey, baby blue.”_ Larry’s voice had his shoulders slumping, a smile curling his lips as he leaned against the counter. _“How’re you feelin’?”_

“I’m… I’m good. I mean, as good as I can be right now.” Sal admitted sheepishly.

_“Hey- hey, tell him I says hi!”_ Ashley yelled in the background.

_“Ash says hi.”_

“Tell her I said hi- tell everyone I said hi.” It had only been twelve hours, right?

_“I’d come up an’ visit, but I gotta get your birthday presents wrapped up for when you’s get home.”_ Larry spoke softly, gently; Sal felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

“You don’t have to,” a tap on his shoulder had him jumping, spinning- a nurse. “Lar, I gotta go. I lo-… I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

_“Alright, baby blue. I’ll call later… I’ll see you soon.”_

Sal hung up the phone, feeling lighter than he had since he’d arrived. “Therapy?” 

“You really do know how this thing works,” the nurse joked. “Yeah. You ready?”

“Can I bring my blanket?”

“Sure, kid.”

* * *

December 16th, 1991  
9:00 a.m.

* * *

Larry and Maple had ran back to the apartments after everything had happened, checking the entire building over. Nothing. They even went back to the apartment- nothing. Nothing.

Nothing, as if nothing had ever been there.

They didn’t sleep that night.

Instead, Larry had dragged her up to Sal’s apartment to check in on Henry. He was okay- still shaken up, but okay. And he’d called Sal! 

Larry wanted to go see Sal, but Henry had advised against that. 

Instead, he talked to him on the phone, and that was a relief.

And now- now, he was helping Henry clean the house up. Ashley and Travis took it upon themselves to go out and get decorations for Sal’s birthday; Ashley also took it upon herself to make Sal a cake, despite Henry’s protests. She wouldn’t hear it.

It was endearing; Larry could see how it lifted the weight from Henry’s shoulders.

Maple was working on the kitchen, Henry on the living room. That left the bathroom and Sal’s room for him. 

The bathroom.

Larry knew the layout of all the apartments- they were all the same. He quietly closed the door behind him and looked around; Sal’s prosthetic cleanser sitting on the counter, his… Other eyes, sitting beside it. Hairbrush and toothbrush were gone. Turning slowly, his gaze wandered up, to the ceiling.

And settled on the six small holes in the ceiling. 

Brows furrowing, he stood up on his toes and looked closer. They weren’t drilled from the top- or drilled at all. They looked like what happened when a cat’s claws dug in to something.

A chill dripped down his spine at the realization. Something had been here. But what?

“What _are_ you?” He asked the air softly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Came a soft answer. He spun around, staring at the tub- and the creature within. It was… It wasn’t human. There was no way it could be. Vampire? Like him?

No. No- it didn’t… Smell right. Look right.

Too many teeth, too many sharp teeth. The smile too wide. The eyes too black, all black, like the void. The skin paper white, the arms up to the elbows almost pitch black. No clothes- no gender? Red, stringy hair. Like blood. Like blond hair dipped in blood. 

He squared his jaw. “Who are you?” He asked, watching as it rose, and rose, and rose- until it’s head nearly touched the ceiling.

Its legs weren’t legs. 

They were fuzzy.

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

“A name is a heavy price. I’d rather answer what. But you already know what.”

“Why Sal?”

“Because my master bid me to do so.”

“Who’s your master?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

It cackled. The hair on Larry’s arms raised. “You do.”

Larry blinked.

It was gone.

Swallowing roughly, he turned around, opened the bathroom door, and left the room.

* * *

December 16th, 1991  
6:00 p.m.

* * *

Therapy was nice. The therapist didn’t rush him. He was able to talk about everything without worrying- too much. Careful to omit certain things- puking up moss, Neil getting attacked. 

And group. Group was also nice- there was another guy here, Aaron, who had a prosthetic leg. The accident was still recent, and he was dealing with severe PTSD. Sal didn’t ask what had happened. Aaron didn’t ask Sal why he had a prosthetic face.

They sat and drew together. They were both shitty artists, but it was nice.

There as a girl, too- Autumn; she was learning how to talk again after a botched attempt left her with a broken jaw. She was sweet, and close to leaving. One more week, she’d written down.

They were kind. He liked them.

They sat and watched Wheel Of Fortune before going off to do their own thing. Aaron went to music therapy. Autumn went to take a shower. And Sal-

He sat on the couch and began to write in his diary. 

He always wrote down abstract thoughts and random things. Larry has a whistle when he speaks because of the gap in his teeth. Ashley has a habit of braiding and unbraiding and rebraiding her hair when she’s nervous. Maple’s lipstick somehow doesn’t smudge despite her lip ring. Todd tapped his fingers a lot- he also tapped the pad of each finger with his thumb nail over and over if he got anxious or frustrated. Chug could pop too many bones. Too many bones. Kind of gross- except that he can do the exact same thing. Travis 

Other things, too- Saint Louis Cemetery no. 1 is a beautiful place that offers tours. The French Quarter used to not be the good place to live. Saint Louis Cathedral is a mixture of Spanish and Gothic architecture. The Gulf of Mexico was very salty. 

And now…

Now, he wrote about what he’d seen.

It had been real. He knew that. It had been real, and it had touched him. And it had had too many teeth- like a shark’s mouth had been shoved into a human skull.

He closed his diary.

His hands were shaking.

“Roger?” He called for one of the nurses on staff. 

“What’s up?” Roger asked as he jogged over, brows furrowing.

“I’m going to have an anxiety attack.”

“Oh- okay. Alright. Let’s talk, yeah?”

* * *

December 17th, 1991  
5:00 a.m.

* * *

Sal jerked up in bed, eye wide in the dark of his room. He could hear the nurses talking softly outside of his room. What had woken him up? Had he been dreaming? He looked to the window, brows furrowing. Nothing was there.

Why did he feel so nervous?

He’d taken his medication at nine last night, like he always did. He shouldn’t be having such bad anxiety. He shifted, pulling Ashley’s blanket closer to himself. His father had called again before it was lights out. And Larry was still there. They got to talk longer this time, all three of them. 

He sniffled, brows furrowing. Maybe he should call for a nurse?

Shaking his head, he settled back down. It was nothing. Being in the hospital, that was all.

He stared around the room, searching the dark corners. Nothing was there. Nothing was there. _Nothing was there_.

Pulling Ashley’s blanket closer, he hunkered down, squeezing his eye shut.

Ignoring the shadow form that lingered across the room, by the window.

* * *

December 17th, 1991  
10:00 a.m.

* * *

“Okay but have you ever played DnD?” Aaron asked as he lounged on the couch. He’d had physical therapy earlier; his leg hurt now. Sal could see the irritation around the top of the prosthetic. 

“No- tell me about it.”

“Dude! Okay, so, there’s like, different types of creatures you can be. There’s Teiflings and elves and orcs and…” He rambled on, grinning, as Sal colored.

Autumn made her way in and sat down across from Sal.

“Did you guys hear?” She asked, her voice low, her words stunted and harsh. 

“Hear what?” Sal asked, brows furrowing.

“So-some craz-zy guy came-came in last night t-to the ER. W-went abs-absolutely insane.” She shook her head, her eyes wide. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks, and eyes that were more storm than ocean. 

“Really?” Aaron leaned forward, brows raising in morbid curiosity.

“Mhm.” She reached out, taking a piece of paper. Too much talking hurt her jaw, still. _“Attacked the charge nurse, stabbed another, and screamed about how ‘they will rise in a glorious river of blood’ before dying.”_

Sal’s eyes widened. Aaron let out a hiss. “That’s brutal,” Aaron muttered.

Autumn nodded in agreement.

“What time?”

“E-early.”

A chill went down Sal’s spine.

He’d been here for going on forty-eight hours.

One more day.

He rose to his feet. “I have therapy.”

“Don’t get lost!”

* * *

December 17th, 1991  
3:33 p.m.

* * *

Larry stared at the body of water, brows furrowed. “… Is that…?”

“A hand?” Lisa finished for him, nodding.

“What- I… What?”

“I don’t know. Police are on their way to canvas.”

“Was it…?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t smell anything.”

Larry pulled his jacket closer to himself and looked towards the sky.

A single drop of rain fell, hitting him on the forehead. Cold.

* * *

December 17th, 1991  
8:45 p.m.

* * *

“So they found a _hand_?”

“Yeah.” Larry shook his head, disgust curling his lip.

“Did they find the rest of the body?” Travis asked, a brow raising.

“Nope.”

“… That’s… Uh…” Ashley shook her head. 

“I know.”

“… Sal gets out tomorrow?” Travis changed the subject, smiling as Larry perked up.

“Yeah! I’m goin’ with Henry t’ get him.” Larry sat up, grinning. “Gonna get ‘im some flowers an’ everythin’.”

Ashley let out a snort. “That’s so gay.”

“I’m gay.”

“You’re everything.”

“True, true.”

* * *

December 18th, 1991  
7:00 a.m.

* * *

“Good morning!” Avery- the red head nurse, that was her name- cheered as she opened the door. “You ready for today?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m goin’ home today.”

“I know!” She presented him with breakfast. “They’re getting your papers all ready. The therapist wants to drop by and talk with you one more time.”

“Alright- do I have time to take a shower?” 

“Yeah, you do- after you eat.”

“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it caught in knots. Scrambled eggs again. No toast this time- he just wanted orange juice. “Hey- I have a question.”

“And I have an answer!”

“Is there anyone in the room next to mine?” He asked before stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. They were better today. Not as runny, more firm.

“… Not that I know of? Why?” Avery asked as she looked up from her crossword puzzle, a brow raised.

“Nothing, I just thought I heard someone in there last night. It was probably just echoes from the nursing station.”

“Oh, yeah- this place is really echo-y. I mean, the hospital itself is old.” She agreed, a smile curling her lips. “Okay, help me out here- another word for candy.”

“Sweet?”

“… That could work, maybe…”

Sal hummed, his gaze drifting to the wall across from him. 

The shadow figure stood in the corner. It waved.

He didn’t wave back.

* * *

December 18th, 1991  
1:00 p.m.

* * *

“So…” Sal trailed off, looking towards the hospitalist. “I’m free to go?”

“You’ve been cleared.” He agreed, nodding. “However, you have been prescribed a different antianxiety medication, as well as a new medication to help you sleep.”

He nodded in understand and relief. “Thank you- for helping me,” he spoke to the therapist, who nodded.

… He still couldn’t remember the man’s name.

“You’re free to go.”

With that, he left the room he’d been assigned, stopping by the common room to say goodbye to Aaron and Autumn. “You’ll call, right?” Aaron asked, brows furrowing.

“I’ll call. I promise.” Sal agreed with a nod.

Autumn didn’t hug him- neither did Aaron. Sal was okay with that. But they did shake hands, and Autumn patted his cheek. 

“You b-be safe.” She told him rather sternly.

“You, too.” He replied before being led out by Avery, who talked about the weather and the holidays coming up and wished him a happy early birthday before they turned the corner.

Sal couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Larry and his dad. His dad had his hoodie in his hands, and Larry had- a bouquet? A bouquet of roses. Red roses. A joyful laugh bubbled up and out of him as he walked over to them, hugging his dad first before clinging to Larry. “Roses?”

“An early birthday gift.” Larry replied with a wink.

“Your forms are all done,” Henry added, holding out the hoodie. Sal quickly slipped it on, reveling in the familiar smell and feel. “I’ve got your prescription orders, too.”

“Alright. Can we get McDonald’s? I’m starving.” 

Larry and Henry both laughed at that. Larry helped him switch out his slippers for his converse. “I mean, ya could jus’ wear these.”

“No.”

“You ain’t no fun.” Larry pouted while Sal snickered.

“Hey, Avery?” He called to the nurse, who was standing by, watching with a bright smile.

“Yeah, sweets?”

“Good luck on your entrance exam.”

“Thank you, Sal. Have a Merry Christmas!”

“You, too!”

He walked out with Ashley’s blanket folded up on top of his pillow, and the awful grippy socks that he sort of actually liked but also really hated. Larry talked about how he helped Henry clean up the apartment, how Maple had almost fallen because she forgot she mopped the kitchen floor immediately after finishing mopping it, how Todd and Chug dropped by to get updates.

It was nice.

But what was nicer was the burger and fries and chocolate shake he got from McDonalds. He took over the back seat with Larry, sprawled out with his food in his lap and his feet in Larry’s lap.

“So…” Henry began. “Amanda’s comin’ in tomorrow.”

“With the Devil’s Spawn?”

“Sadly.”

A snort.

“Amanda’s my dad’s sister- my aunt. And her kid is younger than me, but a total pain in the ass.” Sal explained with a shake of his head. 

“Gotcha.” Larry replied around a mouth full of overly salted fries. 

“Are they staying at the house, or at a hotel?” 

“Hotel."

_“Good.”_

“We have to pick them up from the airport.”

“… Do I-”

“Yes you do. If I have to suffer, so do you.”

“I just got out of the hospital…”

“Are you really _guilt-tripping_ me?”

“… Maybe.”

Larry couldn’t help but grin as he listened to Henry and Sal go back and forth, bickering lightly with one another. It was sweet to see them like that. 

He watched as Sal laughed, as he dunked his fry into his chocolate shake, as he breathed and lived. And it hit him- this was possible the son of _Diane_. Of Red’s sister.

The nephew of Red.

He looked away.

“Hey, dad- did mom have any siblings?” Sal suddenly asked. Larry jolted, and glanced towards the teen. His palms began to sweat.

“… I think she had a brother.” Henry replied after a moment, head tilting to the side. “He lived down here, actually. Oh, what was his name…” 

Larry felt like he was going to puke as they pulled into Addison Apartments. His throat felt too tight, his chest felt like it was caving in. 

“It started with an R!”

Larry was going to puke in the parking lot of Addison Apartments. His stomach clenched up. 

“… Red! His name was Red!”

Larry opened the door as soon as they parked, stepped away from the car, and puked in the parking lot of Addison Apartments.


	18. Don't Go Out Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!  
> A party.  
> A meeting.  
> Another party.  
> A ride.  
> Bridges Are Not Fun.  
> Let's go to the Beach-Beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the plot thickens. What's up I'm here with your weekly update. No warnings here. I have 2 weeks left of classes and then I'm FREE for the summer which means quicker updates.   
> ... After I have some dental things done on the 13th of May. Owie.  
> So. Enjoy this chapter! I hope everyone has a safe, happy Easter/Passover! If you celebrate neither(like me), then have a wonderful weekend!  
> As always, thank you all so much for commenting, leaving kudos, and reading this!! I'm glad so many people are liking it, and hearing from you all just warms my heart so much.  
> You can find me on tumblr @ https://fakexface.tumblr.com   
> I scream about this fic and other things regularly there.   
> If anyone happens to write/draw/cosplay/etc. anything to do with this fic, lemme know!! I'd absolutely LOVE to see!!  
> Anywho, ON WE GO.

_“I see a bad moon a-rising; I see trouble on the way._  
 _I see earthquakes and lightnin'; I see bad times today.”_  
- _Bad Moon Rising_ , Credence Clearwater Revival

* * *

December 18th, 1991  
1:45 p.m.

* * *

“Larry!” Sal exclaimed, jumping out of his side to run around the front of the car. Henry was already out, rubbing Larry’s back.

“You okay there, son?” Henry asked, worry etched across his features.

“Fine,” Larry gasped out, wincing at the burn in his throat from the bile. “Jus- Car sick. That’s all. ‘m fine- sorry.” 

“Come on up to our place- I’ll get you some Sprite. And a cold wash cloth.” Henry left no room for arguments, despite Larry shaking his head.

Sal grabbed his bag, pillow, and blanket; Henry took the roses; Larry followed after, grimacing at the taste in his mouth. They didn’t notice that he didn’t vomit up anything of substance- no, it was all dark, the color of coffee grounds. He didn’t know how he’d explain that- no, I’m not bleeding internally, it’s just that my main source of nutrition happens to be running through your veins right this very instant! Isn’t that just _grand_! 

No.

As they walked past Terrance’s office, he paused; who…? His eyes narrowed in the bright December sunlight as he took in the sight of the man in the overcoat; balding, pale, he wouldn’t say obese but… 

Larry looked away before the man could turn to look at him, ducking his head down.

He quickly followed after Sal, ducking into the apartment he’d helped clean. 

Oh. Oh, _SHIT_.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheered. Sal almost dropped his bag, he was so startled. Ashley was grinning widely, a cookie cake in her hands. “We’s thought we’d surprise you’s!”

“Ash…” Sal breathed, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have- none of you should have.”

“Well, we know it isn’t your birthday _yet_ ,” Todd began as he stepped forward, shrugging, “but we wanted to be here for you when you got home.”

Larry couldn’t help but smile as Henry handed him a glass of Sprite; he quickly took a drink, washing away the taste of old blood and stomach bile. He’d leave in a little bit, go back down stairs with Ashley and Maple and Travis and Robert and Neil- tell them all that he’d found out on his little car ride from Hell.

Sal was looking at him.

He looked over and managed a smile, draping his arm around his shoulders. “I’m fine, Sal,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I always get car sick in the back seat- I should’a mentioned that.”

“If you say so…” He leaned against him for a moment before pulling away, lugging his bag farther into the apartment as he began to talk with Todd and Chug. Ashley lingered close, ready to jump in and help. “Did you really get a cookie cake?” He heard Sal ask, confusion lacing his words. 

“If you need to go home, you can- Sal’ll understand.” Henry spoke softly, a gentle hand landing on his shoulder.

Larry nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah- I’ll… Come by later. I’m gonna go on and lay down.”

“I’ll let Sal know.”

“Thanks, Mr. Fisher.”

He quietly left, closing the door behind him. His gaze drifted across the courtyard, startling at the sight of the man- going into the apartment directly across from Sal’s.

The one he and Maple had been in.

The iron ball in his stomach grew larger.

* * *

“Come again?” Lisa stared Larry down, mixer held aloft. She had been in the middle of making pie when he’d barged in and started talking too fast for her to follow. “You said somethin’ about Red? And Sal?”

Larry leaned against the counter, hands covering his face. “Sal. His mother is Diane. His uncle, Diane’s _brother_ , is Red. Red. As in, Maple’s husband who done fucked all of us over.” He explained, hands dropping to his sides.

Lisa blinked once, twice. “… Well. Shit.”

“Mom!”

“Does Maple know?” 

“She… Had an idea.” He hesitated, worrying his lip. “And Travis… He uh, told me somethin’.”

“… I’m gonna take a seat.” She walked past him, pulled out a chair, and collapsed down into it. “Continue.”

“He an’ Azaria were at Maple’s party back on Halloween. The one that went bad? Well…” He shifted his feet, looking at the freshly mopped floor before up at his mother. “Diane was the one who changed Travis.” 

A beat passed.

Then another.

“… We need to sit down and talk ‘bout this.”

“Agreed.”

“Soon.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

* * *

October 18th, 1991  
8:30 p.m.

* * *

Maple leaned back against the wall, her head tilted to the side. “So…” 

“Sal’s basically the antichrist?” Robert asked, brow raised.

They’d gathered in the warehouse, wanting to be as far from the apartments as they could get. Ashely sat on the tailgate of her truck beside Larry; Travis was sitting on her toolbox. Lisa had taken to lounging on the couch beside Neil. 

No one had been able to get hold of Azaria.

CJ had said she’d gone out for the night.

Larry didn’t bother tracking her down.

“Not the antichrist. I don’ even know what he is. He ain’t gotta clue, obviously. I mean…” Rubbing the back of his neck, Larry sighed. “He knows _somethin’_ is up. An’ he can feel shit. And obviously, he’s seen shit.”

“How do you know?” Maple countered, brows furrowing. “For all we know, he could just be batshit insane.”

“He isn’t.”

_“How do you know?”_

“Because I saw it.” 

A beat.

“You saw… it?” Neil asked softly, leaning forward. “What was _it_ , exactly?”

Lisa glanced towards her son. He hadn’t told her this. She looked back towards Maple- who looked just as surprised. 

“… I don’t know. I wanna call it a demon. But I ain’t sure. It’s got pale skin, red stringy hair, eyes as black as oil, too many fuckin’ teeth…” A shudder danced through him. “When it talked, it’s voice changed pitch _constantly_ , goin’ from soundin’ like a lil’ girl to the pits o’ hell an’ back again.” 

“When did you see it?” Maple asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“When we was cleanin’ Sal’s apartment. In th’ bathroom. Same place he saw it. There’s holes in the ceilin’. Six- from claws.”

Maple fell silent.

“Maple?” Robert asked, studying his sister. “… What ain’t you tellin’ us?”

“It visited me.”

Travis dropped his cup of blood, type a positive spilling across the floor. Larry jumped to his feet, crossing the room in quick, long strides.

“An’ you didn’ tell us?”

“You didn’, neither.”

“When, Maple.”

“Day after shit happened at the party.”

“What did it say.” 

Maple hesitated then, her gaze drifting from Larry’s to Robert’s. “It… It uh…”

Larry let out a noise similar to a growl, pressing closer, trapping her against the wall. “What the fuck did it _say, Maple?”_

Robert reached out, grabbing Larry’s arm. “Back the fuck up, bub.” Robert warned, his fingers tightening around Larry’s arm. “Back up.”

Larry scowled, shrugging his hold off before taking a step back.

“It said- it said that we’s bein’ watched, an’ that we know who it is. To “Bring the boy to Manchac. Drown him. Let him _rise_ again. This is not his only life,”.” She finished, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze, her own trained on the floor.

Silence fell across the warehouse. Larry didn’t speak as he took another step back. He turned, face eerily blank, crossed to where they had palettes stacked up. Slowly, he took hold of one, before throwing it across the warehouse with all of his strength. Ashley jumped, eyes wide as she watched it fly through the air before crashing against the wall, breaking apart.

“And you decided to not tell us this, why?” Larry asked, turning to study Maple.

She kept her face carefully blank, her chin raised, shoulders squared but relaxed. Confident. Strong. The woman she had been raised to be, the older sibling, the protector. “I chose not to do so because I didn’t want to cause more worry- we was already dealing with Neil being split in two, and Robert’s wards bein’ broken.”

Larry shook his head. “You should’a told us.”

“I realize that now.”

“Lets- lets calm down.” Ashley spoke, but was not heard.

“No- no, you made a stupid mistake. If you’d’a told us what was happenin-”

“You ain’t got no right t’lecture me. You’s the one who saw it in Sal’s house.”

“That was literally two days ago.”

“You didn’ say _shit_.”

“Because _Henry_ was home, Maple!” 

“So?!” Maple stepped closer to Larry, lip pulled back in a snarl.

“ _Henry is a human!_ I didn’ wanna give the poor man a fuckin’ heart attack!”

“How do we know he’s a human?!”

“You’ve been ‘round him! He’s human as human gets!” Larry threw his hands into the air as Maple stood barely two feet from him.

“Then what does that make Sal?”

“I don’t-”

“A danger! He’s a _danger_!”

“You _take **that BACK**_ ,” Larry roared, reaching out to strike her.

They both froze at the sudden echo of a shotgun blast.

Turning, they looked to Travis, who stood just outside of the door, shotgun raised to the sky. “Are we done arguin’ like little kids now?” He asked as he lowered the gun. “Or do I need remind y’all that there are much bigger, much mo’ dangerous things a’happenin’ right now.”

Larry took a few steps back, his hands stuffing into his pockets. He looked away, brow furrowed. Maple didn’t budge, instead staring down Travis. 

“You can glare at me all you want, doll. As far as age goes, I’m the oldest here. Now sit down, both of yens.” Travis stalked back inside, shaking his head. “We need t’talk. Like adults.” 

“I agree.” Lisa nodded, her brows furrowing. “There’s a lot happening at once.”

“First and foremost- we know that Diane is Sal’s mother, and that Red is his… Uncle.” Ashley began slowly, pulling her knees to her chest. She’d dropped her false Cajun accent for the time being. “And we also know that somethin’s happening at Addison Apartments.”

“Terrance won’t speak.” Larry cut in, shaking his head. “I’ve tried. He ain’t sayin’ shit.”

“We know that…” Ashley paused, swallowing roughly. “We know that Red is back. Somehow.”

“We don’t know how he’s back.” Travis added, head tilting to the side. “Nor do we know how Diane… Died. Or what those creatures are that y’all seen.”

“There’s another one…” Maple stated softly, her brows furrowed.

“Another one?” Travis asked, setting his gun aside. 

Larry nodded. “We saw it the night that Sal was put in th’ hospital. Or, Maple did.”

Neil shifted, arms crossing over his chest as his gaze tracked upwards, towards the beams that supported the roof. “… What’d it look like, Maple?”

She shifted, coming to sit on the arm of the couch, crossing her legs to balance herself. She drew in a breath, closing her eyes. “It uh…” A shudder danced through her. “It was dark, the apartment. And I remember hearin’ the bangin’ on th’ door. An’ when Larry opened it, it stopped. But I heard it- heard somethin’ like… Like clickin’. Y’know when you can pop your wrist or somethin’ over an’ over again? Like bones poppin’.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “An’ I turned, an’ it-… It was there. Behind us. Big- real big. An’ it jus’ stood there, lookin’ at me fo’ a moment, but it felt like forever.

“It’s eyes were too- too human. Too human, too glassy, too… Wrong. Too wide. They didn’ blink. An’ it’s mouth- really wide.” She rubbed at her arms, brows pinching. “It was solid black- solid. No color nowhere aside from th’ eyes. An’ then it moved, an’ it moved fast- but wrong. It sorta… Jerked. Like all it’s bones was in the wrong place, or they was broken and never fixed. But it moved, and it jerked, and I knew if we stayed in that apartment, we wouldn’t’a made it out.”

Silence fell over the group. Travis loosed a breath. “I’ve heard of skinwalkers who look like… Nightmares. And- and wendigo. But I ain’t never heard o’ anythin’ like _that_.”

“It ain’t no Papa Legba.” Robert shook his head, frowning. “Papa Legba don’t look like that.”

“A demon.” Larry stated. “It was a demon.”

“I don’t wanna call it nothin’,” Maple admitted, shaking her head. “But I ain’t gonna disagree.”

“The same one we came into contact with before?”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, this one is different.”

“And dangerous. More dangerous.”

Lisa sighed, rising to her feet. “So, what are we supposed to do? We’ve never dealt with demons before. Red, sure. But demons?”

“Like I said- I don’t know what I wanna call ‘em. Someone’s summonin’ them.”

“And we have a new tenant in Addison Apartments.” Larry broke in, watching as his mother froze up.

“A new tenant?”

“In the exact same apartment that me an’ Maple experienced that _thing_ in.”

“Well…” Neil sighed, placing his hands on his knees. “… When do we start?”

“So, what I was thinkin’…”

* * *

December 20th, 1991  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

“Happy birthday to you!” The group finished singing, much to Sal’s embarrassment. He never knew what to do during times like these- should he sing along? Should he clap for himself? Should he dance? He didn’t know. So he sat there awkwardly and listened as everyone sang.

His cake didn’t have candles- he hadn’t had candles on his cakes for years. The last time had been when he was ten? Or maybe it was eleven. He couldn’t remember.

“So, now that we’ve celebrated…” Henry began, glancing towards Larry, then down at his son. “You have plans tonight, I assume?”

“They won’t tell me what we’re doing.” Sal replied, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. He’d opened the presents from Aunt Amanda and her demon spawn, Isaac, earlier. “I assume, since it’s still early, we might go… Eat? Somewhere?”

“Who knows.” Larry replied cryptically, a smirk curling his lips. “Go get changed, baby blue.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Sal slipped away from the table, ducking as Ashley ruffled his hair. Chug had already gotten a piece of cake- which Ashley had made, apparently- and had parked himself on the couch. 

He slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Sweat pants and a t-shirt wouldn’t be good clothes to go out in, after all. And Maple had already been in here, apparently, having pulled out outfit options for him. He paused, studying the three options spread out on his bed. The first was simple- a black sweater and a pair of simple dark wash jeans. No accessories. Boring.

The second was more interesting; a deep red, long sleeved shirt paired with a pair of jeans that were _not_ his own; they were ripped in multiple places clear up to the thighs, a pair of fishnets (which he assumed was to be worn beneath the pants), and his own black combat boots. She’d paired it with a necklace (which had a gift tag on it)- it was multilayered, with crosses in silver and gold. He kind of liked it.

The last one was… Different. Sal paused, gaze sweeping over it. 

Yes. That one. 

He changed quickly, grabbing the necklace and his shoes from the second outfit. Smiling beneath the prosthetic, he slipped from his bedroom and into the bathroom without being seen. He studied his reflection, a chill ghosting across his neck. Shaking his head, he took his hair out of the pigtails, letting the turquoise locks fall loose around his shoulders. He’d finally gotten a trim, thankfully. 

It did nothing to quell the waves that had appeared thanks to the constant state of humid that New Orleans was in.

He brushed it out quickly before giving himself one last once over. Oh, yes. This was good. Very good. Maple had good taste.

Slipping out of the bathroom, he took a calming breath before walking out. It wasn’t the riskiest thing he’d ever worn before, but considering how his aunt was, and her demon spawn of a son…

Larry turned, ready to pick on Sal, only to fall silent as he took in the sight. Behind him, Travis let out a soft, alarmed wheeze as he inhaled his soda. The shirt was cut off at the fourth ribs, revealing the mesh fabric beneath and the pale skin beneath that. A pair of black jeans clung to his hips, almost painted on. Combat boots rested on his feet; the necklace was one he’d seen before- he’d been with Maple when she bought it. And it was all topped off with a long, off-grey button-down jacket. 

Maple was trying to kill them with Sal’s body. 

“Won’t you be cold?” Amanda asked, arms crossing over her chest. “Wouldn’t a sweater be better?”

“I mean, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Aunt Amanda, but the weather outside is milder compared to Jersey.” Sal replied with a shrug. “I’ll be fine. Right, dad?”

Henry raised his hands, palms facing outward. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“I just don’t think a boy your age should be wearing things like this. A crop top?”

“Since when did clothes have genders?” Sal shot back, head tilting to the side. 

“It’s almost sinful.”

“So is eating shrimp. And laying with someone who is not your spouse.”

Henry began to cough, having inhaled his soda. Neil reached over to pat his back.

Amanda didn’t respond, her jaw clenching. 

“I might not be back tonight, dad- is that alright? I mean, I’ll bring my keys with me, so I can let myself in…” Sal began, only to fall silent as Henry shook his head with a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Sal. Go have fun.”

Sal beamed beneath his prosthetic, nodding. “I will. Thank you- for everything, dad.”

“You don’t have to thank me…” Henry rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I do.” Sal replied with a shrug.

“So…” Larry trailed off, looping his arm through Sal’s. “Shall we go?”

“I don’t know where we’re going but lead the way.”

Larry lead him out, Travis and Ashley following behind. Maple and Chug lingered for a moment, talking with Henry while Todd stopped by his apartment. 

“You had part of it right. We are going out to eat.” Larry informed, a smirk curling his lips. “Also, here,” he handed over a hair tie to a rather confused Sal. “Tie your hair up. You’re wearing a helmet.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Oh, yes. Jus’ you wait.” Larry flashed Sal a wicked grin that had Sal questioning every decision he’d made that lead up to this moment. As they turned the corner, Sal realized just what Larry had meant. 

Motorcycles. 

One for them all, if they rode together. 

“Oh.”

Larry let out a snort, letting go of Sal to walk backwards, his arms spreading wide. “C’mon, _Sally_. You ain’t scared, are ya?” He taunted, brows raising.

“C’mon, Sal!” Ashley called as she jogged up, Travis following after. “It’ll be fun!”

“Y’all are gonna give him a heart attack.” Maple shook her head as she breezed past Sal, heading towards another bike. “Chug’s gonna drive your truck, Travis.”

“That’s all right wit’ me.”

“Good.” She swung a leg over, and it occurred to Sal that this was the first time he’d seen her not in a dress or a skirt. She wore pants- dark jeans, knee high boots. 

“Ready?” Larry asked, having settled onto his bike casually, holding the helmet for Sal.

“What about Todd and Neil?”

“They’re comin’ in Neil’s truck. Neil don’t ride.” Ashley called over the roar of her engine coming to life. Travis climbed on behind her, his arms looping around her waist loosely. Maple looked perfectly at home on hers as she adjusted her gloves.

He could hear Todd, Neil, and Chug laughing in the parking lot. 

Without a word, he took the helmet from Larry, pulling it on over his head, before climbing on behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist tightly, gripping at his leather jacket. He could feel the chuckle that Larry let out before the engine purred to life beneath them. It was still thrilling, exhilarating. Larry let out a whoop before pulling away, not giving Sal a second to get used to it. No, they sped out of the parking lot, past Neil and Todd and Chug, who yelled at them as they drove past. He could just barely hear Ashley and Travis yelling back over the sound of the motor and the wind. 

The lights of New Orleans blurred as they wove in and out of traffic. Cars would honk as they wove through; Larry slowed, letting Maple speed past to take the lead. She led them out of the hustle and bustle of the city proper and onto I-10, leading them up and away, past the Superdome. Sal looked over his shoulder, watching as they rode past. 

Where were they going?

There was still a lot of traffic on the road; he couldn’t see ahead of them to see where Maple was, but when Larry sped up, he could only assume that she’d pulled ahead a bit too far. Head twisting, he looked behind them, catching sight of Ashley and Travis; both were wearing helmets, like he and Larry. And behind them, he could just see Travis’ truck. 

He could only assume that Neil and Todd were behind Chug.

He turned his head back forwards, watching as New Orleans in its entirety began to disappear; they crossed over a bridge, and just like that, the tall buildings had vanished, giving way to apartment complexes and housing developments. Seabrook- that’s where they were entering. 

Where were they _going_?

He let his head rest against Larry’s back, gaze unfocused as he listened to the occasional shift in the engine. Larry was so _calm_ , relaxed as he wove through traffic. There weren’t as many cars here, now. More open space. 

More space, he realized, also applied to the land around them.

The apartment complexes had faded out, as had the housing developments. Giving way to willowy trees and swamp lands. 

“Can you hear me?” Larry hollered over the wind. 

“Yeah!” Sal called back, sitting up straighter.

“We’s gonna pull off for a moment! Stretch our legs!” 

“Okay!”

They drove for another five or so minutes before Larry slowed, pulling into the right lane, and then onto the shoulder. He slowed to a stop, the bike rumbling beneath them for a moment before he killed the engine. Sal reached up, pulling his helmet (and almost his mask) off. 

“Where are we?” He asked as Ashley pulled in, followed by Chug and finally, Neil and Todd. Maple wandered over, stretching her arms up and over her head. Her sweater rode up almost to her belly button, revealing a scar that Sal hadn’t realized she had, just above her pant line. 

He didn’t mention anything.

“Little Woods, right outside of Bayou Sauvage National Wildlife Refuge.” Maple answered with a wince. 

Travis clambered off of the bike with a wince, twisting this way then that. “Ouch.”

“That’s why we’s stopped.” Larry chuckled, grinning as he glanced down at Sal. He had his hair tied up in a ponytail, though a few strands still escaped around his face. 

“So… Do I get to know where we’re going yet?” Sal asked, glancing around. Cars sped past as they stood and stretched. 

“Nope. Still a surprise. But, you do get to know that we’re about to go over a bridge that’s ‘bout five and a half miles long.”

“We’re doing what now.” Sal stared at Larry as if he had completely lost his marbles.

“C’mon, baby blue,” Larry nudged him with a grin. “Just hang on tight!”

He left no room for arguments, pulling his helmet back on. Maple jogged back to her bike, and Ashley revved hers behind them.

Sal groaned, and tugged his helmet back on. He climbed back on, gripping Larry’s jacket like his life depended on it. And really, it just might. Moments later, they were pulling back onto the highway. Maple took one lane; Larry took the other. It was… Fun. Maple would speed up, Larry would speed up; Maple would slow down, Larry would slow down. They were having fun. 

That was when the swamps on either side began to give way to open water.

“Lake Pontchartrain!” Larry called.

Sal stared at the water in mild alarm. 

He didn’t like bridges. He should have told Larry that.

But they were moving onto the bridge, and Maple had switched lanes to be in front of them, and then- they were on the bridge, over the water. Sal ducked his head down and breathed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. It felt like forever, but it couldn’t have been longer than twenty minutes, because Larry was turning. Sal lifted his head, looking around- they were off the bridge, finally. Woods were on either side of the road.

The rest of the drive was relatively peaceful. They didn’t stop any more, speeding and weaving through traffic. Sal’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the welcome sign; Gulfport, Mississippi.

They were in another _state_.

Holy _shit_.

Sal couldn’t believe it. But they were there, turning off of I-10 and onto Highway 49. A laugh bubbled out of him as he let the realization sink in. There was a Home Depot to the right of them, right by some train tracks. To the left, a gas station. They came to a stop light, idling in place. McDonald’s was to the left, across the road from them. He drank it all in, this new city. 

Gulfport.

“Welcome to Maple’s home!” Larry called back to Sal.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s our Mississippi Queen!”

The light changed to green. They started moving again, and Sal didn’t know where to look first; to the left, where a large Walmart sat. To the right, at the hotels. To the left, and up, watching as a plane took to the sky. The sound rumbled in his chest, louder than the bike’s motor. He watched as it flew overhead, and up, up, up. 

There were so many stores, so many places- he didn’t know where to look. It was almost like he was going into sensory overload. He simply held on as they drove, drinking it in. The buildings began to change, taking on an older quality, the architecture resembling the days of old. One building housed a tattoo parlor. Another was a pawn shop. On and on it went, until they passed a taller building- a clam house. 

… Ew.

Sal’s nose scrunched up, but then his attention was drawn forward. There was a port ahead of them; shrimp boats and other boats he couldn’t name were docked. They were at the Gulf.

His eyes widened as they drove forward, before turning left, onto Highway 90. 

He kept his head turned to the right, taking in the sight of the pale sand, the dark waters. There were lights strung up at the harbor for Christmas. It was beautiful. 

“We’s almost at the first stop!” Larry called, drawing Sal’s attention to him. He straightened up, trying to see where they were going. But all he could see were headlights and taillights and street lights and the beach.

But then Maple was pulling off into a parking lot built into the beach.

Oh.

Beach!!

Larry pulling in beside her, followed by Ashley and Travis. Chug pulled past them, pulling up on the curb. Neil and Todd took the final parking space. Sal tugged off his helmet and pulled his hair free of the hair tie, revealing a mess of turquoise waves.

“C’mon- they got fire pits. We’s gonna have a beach party!” Ashley cheered, grabbing hold of Sal’s hands and spinning them both around in a circle, gaining a laugh out of Sal.

“A beach party? In the middle of December?” Sal asked, shaking his head, but he was ginning- Ashley could see it in his eyes.

Larry pulled his helmet off and tugged his hair free, grinning as he joined the pair. “That’s why Chug an’ Neil drove the trucks,” he explained with a shrug. “They gots towels an’ blankets an’ food.”

“And you chose the motorcycles, why?”

“Because they’re fun.”

Travis snickered as he wandered over, and then past, Sal and Larry. “I’ve got matches. Ash’s truck has extra lighter fluid.”

Ashley finally released Sal’s hands as she took off, running after Travis in an attempt to tackle him, only to trip and nearly fall instead. “I HATE SAND.”

Larry draped his arm around Sal’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “C’mon- this is fun, yeah? Plus, you git t’see th’ Mississippi Gulf Coast.”

“I mean- yeah…” Sal nodded. “It’s fun- I just… Didn’t expect this.”

“Then just you wait for the second half of this.” He teased, letting go of Sal to step onto the beach, walking backwards.

Sal froze, letting the information settle in. “You guys did too much.”

“We didn’t do enough.” Todd countered as he joined Sal, Neil trailing behind with a cooler. Todd held a bundle of towels and blankets. Chug made his way over with a bag. 

“Robert’s on his way down; he was up in Hattiesburg earlier.”

“Hatties-what?”

“A city ‘bout an hour an’a half north o’ here.” Chug explained as he lugged the bag onto the beach.

“So… What’re you waitin’ for?” Todd asked, nodding towards the sand.

Sal shrugged, looking towards the houses across from the beach, then back to the beach. “I’ve never spent much time at beaches…” He admitted. Todd hummed and nodded before looping his arm through Sal’s. 

“Well, time to have a party!” Todd declared, tugging Sal onto the beach. They stumbled, laughing, as they made their way towards the group stationed around a fire pit.

“I give you… Fire!” Larry yelled as flames burst forth, embers floating into the night sky. Ashley let out a cheer.

The sound of an engine cutting off had Sal looking over his shoulder. Robert had arrived in his truck. 

“Sal! Dude! Buddy!” Larry hollered, dragging his attention back towards him. “C’mon!”

* * *

December 20th, 1991  
11:00 p.m.

* * *

They’d stayed on the beach for hours, long past the chill of the night settling into their skin. By the time they’d left, it was nearly ten. It didn’t take them long to pack everything up; if anything, the fire took the longest to be dealt with. It didn’t want to _die_. 

Finally, however, it guttered out. “We’re goin’ back a different way.” Larry informed Sal as they lingered back, everyone else aside from Travis and Ash waiting. “Maple an’ Chug are gonna head on back with Robert, Neil, an’ Todd. She’s ridin’ with Chug- Travis is takin’ her bike.”

“Right…” Sal paused, shifting his feet in the sand. He looked over his shoulder, staring at the water. “Can we- just- hold on.” He turned, leaving Larry to stand there, confusion painted across his face.

“What’s he doin’?” Ashley asked, her head tilting to the side as she and Travis wandered over to Larry. The trio watched as Sal made his way to the water’s edge, kneeling down. 

“I… Have no idea.” Larry admitted, shaking his head.

Sal drew in a slow breath, eyes closing. Something was _wrong_ but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Maybe it was because it was his birthday, maybe it was because he was in a city he didn’t know. But something was _wrong_ and the water kept drawing him closer, closer, _closer_ , like he needed to be in it right _now_.

Larry tensed, eyes widening. “Let him drown,” he whispered, realization dawning on him. He took off, hauling ass to the water. It was low tide, damn it all, and Sal had wandered out on a sand bank.

Drown.

Water.

Beach.

_Shit_.

Ashley and Travis understood immediately, Travis taking off after Larry while Ashley ran back to the trucks, waving her arms. 

Sal swayed, his vision blurring. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore was so calming. He could just… Lay down. Let the water wash over him. Become one with the waves. That would be nice. 

“No, no, no,” Larry hissed, water splashing as he finally crossed into the tide pools. Sal was so close, so _close_ …

He got to him right before he stepped into the water. He wrapped his arms around Sal, almost tackling him to the ground. “C’mon, Sal.” He murmured, holding him close, knocking him out of the trance he’d been pulled into.

Travis was close behind, slowing to a stop behind them. “Is he…?”

Sal coughed, shaking his head. “How’d I get out here?” He asked, looking up at Larry.

“I think you’re tired.” Larry replied, glancing towards Travis, sharing a silent conversation.

_‘We need to get back home.’_

_‘No more beach parties.’_

Quietly, the trio made their way back up to the shore and to the short cement wall that separated the highway from the beach. Maple hovered by the truck, Robert by her side.

“We’s alright. We’ll see y’all in the mornin’.” Larry called, nodding to Maple. 

_‘We’ll talk this over tomorrow.’_

Maple climbed into the truck beside Chug, closing the door, while Robert slid into his truck. Neil and Todd had already left. 

The four of them watched as they took off, heading down the highway to the stop lights so that they could turn around.

“Which way we goin’ this time?” Ashley asked, brows raising.

“Changed my mind. I don’t wanna go over th’ Causeway.” Larry shook his head; Ashley read between the lines. Too long over open water.

Too dangerous.

“Lead the way, Lar.” 

Sal pulled his helmet back on, head still foggy, before climbing back on behind Larry, his arms wrapping around his waist tightly. He let his head rest against his back as the bike rumbled to life, and then, they were off, Ashley and Travis flanking them.

* * *

December 21st, 1991  
12:45 a.m.

* * *

They didn’t go back to the apartments. Ashley had left them when they got to Gentilly, heading to her house. They were, instead, heading to Travis’ apartment. 

Travis’ apartment.

Wow.

Sal’s head had cleared with the cold night air on the ride over. He still didn’t completely understand what had occurred, but… That was a problem for later.

Instead, he focused on the thrill of what to come. 

They pulled up into an alley, and the drove behind the building, parking in a small parking lot. Travis pulled his helmet off and shook his head, fluffing up blond strands. Sal clambered off the back of Larry’s bike, tugging his own helmet off before stretching, his back popping.

Larry pounced, then, his hands gripping Sal’s hips, tugging him close. Sal didn’t miss a beat, reaching up to hold onto his leather jacket. “So, _this_ is my gift?” He asked softly, a shudder dancing across his skin as Travis stepped up behind him, his hands settling just above Larry’s, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin beneath his right ear. Sal’s breath hitched. 

“Happy birthday, baby blue.” Larry murmured, lips hovering a hair’s breadth from Sal’s.

“You’s in for a long night.” Travis added, nipping at his lobe.

Sal hummed, back arching. “Happy birthday to me.”

* * *

December 21st, 1991  
12:45 a.m.  
Baton Rouge, Louisiana

* * *

“How the times have changed,” the man spoke softly, leaning against the balcony. His gaze swept across the large, admittedly lavish, hotel room and its occupants. “Baton Rouge looked nothing like this when I was here, last.”

“When you were last here,” a woman spoke up, her brow lifting, “there were still horse-drawn carriages.” Her attention fell back onto her patient, carefully stitching skin together.

“Oh, darling.” He shook his head, lip curling into a smirk. “You wound me so.”

“Bite me.”

“I already did.”

A delicate laugh sounded then, reminiscent of carefree summer days. “Stop fighting, you two.” 

A knock sounded on the door. “Room service,” came a smooth voice.

The blonde woman crossed, red silk dressing gown dragging on the floor. She opened the door with a flourish, smiling at the man despite his rather flustered appearance. “Welcome, welcome.”

“It’s been a long time,” the first man spoke, his voice smooth as silk and deep as sin.

“Master,” the flustered man replied, dropping into a bow before stepping inside. “I apologize for being so late.”

“It’s no trouble, darling boy. I’m surprised you came at all, considering your reclusive tendencies.”

“This seemed important.”

“It is.”

“The boy is eighteen.” The woman on the bed spoke, her head tilting up to study the occupants of the room, dark eyes glimmering in the low light.

“We will begin soon. I have a few obstacles I need to get rid of, first.”

The blonde woman hummed, stepping towards the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze that drifted in. “So,” she began, glancing over her shoulder. “When do you want me in New Orleans?”

“New Year’s Eve.”

A grin curled her lips. “Dramatic timing, as always, right, Red?”


	19. For the Sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday.  
> I Hope You Choke.  
> New Years.  
> A Kiss at Midnight.  
> Ash Blonde Hair.  
> An Ambulance Needs to be Called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. this chapter is only 10 pages long. Half of it is smut. BUT. There is a REASON this chapter is short, and that is because my finals are coming up so I gotta focus on those. But yeah. This chapter is a wild, wild ride. I hope you all enjoy this- especially the ending. A fun little surprise is there! I'll update probably next week (maybe sooner), but I'm also going to have to deal with the emotional turmoil that is Avengers: Endgame on Saturday, and then S8E3 of Game of Thrones on Sunday so like.   
> I'll update when I'm not sobbing.   
> PS: I wrote the first half of this while listening to Gooey and Black Mambo by Glass Animals, and the second half(post-smut) while listening to Jenny of Oldstones by Florence + the Machine (from Game of Thrones Season 8, Episode 2).
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means so much to me!! I'm so happy that y'all are liking this so much. It makes me excited to see the reactions y'all give.  
> You can follow me to get snippets & me shitposting about Sally Face on: https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to write/draw anything for this, drop me a link! Let me know! I'd love to see it!  
> Without further ado- Empire of Dirt.

_"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne._  
 _We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for the sake of auld lang syne."_  
- _Auld Lang Syne_

* * *

December 21st, 1991  
1:00 a.m.

* * *

Hands gripped his hips, blunt nails digging into the skin in an almost painful manner. Larry stood behind him, lips attached to his shoulder, teeth grazing the freckled skin. Travis lazed on the bed before him, a smirk that promised sin curling his lips. He stroked himself slowly, lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. And right now, that’s what they had.

Larry’s hand drifted forward, ghosting across Sal’s hardening member. A moan bubbled free from him, his head falling back against the brunette’s chest. “Lookit that, Travis; Sal’s already drippin’,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of Sal’s neck.

“How cute.” Travis cooed, grip loosening on himself as he rocked forward and crawled across the king-sized bed. “C’mere, Sally,” he purred, licking his lips. 

Larry walked Sal forward, closer, closer, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. His slow strokes never broke pace, even as Sal shifted his hips, wanting more. Needing more.

Travis reached out, gripping Sal’s hips, stilling his movements. “Nope.” He flashed a toothy grin- did his incisors look sharper than normal, or was that a trick of the light? A gasp left the blue haired birthday boy as nails dug into the smooth skin of his hips. “You’s mine now.”

“Oh, am I?” Sal asked, confidence suddenly oozing through. Larry and Travis both paused, sharing a look. Sal reached out, gripping Travis’ chin, tilting his head up. Larry took a step back, a brow raised as amusement danced across his face. This was new. “I’m the birthday boy, right?” He asked, grip tightening on the blonde’s jaw. “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one in charge?”

“I…” Travis swallowed roughly.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be acting as a good little _slut_ , Travis?”

“I…”

“Shouldn’t you be my _cocksleeve_ for the night?”

Larry’s breath caught in his throat. Travis made a noise that might have been a whimper, or maybe a moan. Either way-

Holy _shit_.

“Larry.” Sal glanced over his shoulder, taking in the sight of the brunette. “Prep Travis for me.”

“I- what?”

“Prep. Him.” Sal all but ordered. Larry swallowed roughly before a grin spread across his lips. “And you,” he turned back to Travis, head tilting to the side. He brushed a gentle thumb across full, kiss bruised lips. “I want your lips around my cock. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Travis didn’t need to be told twice, leaning forward, jaw dropping, tongue sliding free to lick a slow stripe along he underside of Sal’s cock. His head fell back, eyes falling shut as Travis took him fully into his mouth, cheeks hollowing. Larry moved around to the other side of the bed, climbing up, a bottle of lube in hand. 

“Y’know…” He let the sight before him settle in. “I like this side o’ you.”

“Really?” Sal murmured, head lolling up, a brow raising. “You’d be surprised. I make a good little switch.”

“Yes, you do.” He agreed as he reached down between Travis’s legs, gripping his member and stroking once, twice, three times- enough to get him fully hard once more. “Travis is a little slut, y’know.”

“Oh, really?” Sal played along, reaching down to brush blonde bangs back from rich, tanned skin. “Tell me more.”

“He’s with Robert- but he done went an’ asked Robert if he could do this. An’ Robert agreed, said he wanted Travis to go have fun, an’ t’come back nice an’ bruised.”

“Bruised?” Sal echoed, glancing down at Travis, who had started bobbing his head in earnest, moaning around him as Larry began opening him up, crooking his fingers, finding his prostate with near deadly accuracy. 

“Mhm. Travis’s a lil’ masochist. And a sadist. He’s a lil’ bit o’ everythin’.” Larry leaned down to press a gentle kiss between Travis’s shoulder blades.

“Maybe you should’ve brought Robert along. Let him watch.” Travis made a surprised sound, his entire body tensing. Larry had done something right, apparently. Sal’s hand wandered lower, over his cheek, down to his throat. “You would’ve liked that, right?” He asked softly, pulling himself back, out of his mouth.

“Please.” His voice was hoarse. “Please, just- please.”

“Please, what?” Larry asked, removing his fingers.

“Fuck me.” Travis stated simply.

“Who?”

“Sal.”

Sal grinned at that, gnarled lips spreading wide, pulling at scarred flesh. “And what about Larry?”

“Larry’s gonna fuck yer brains out, baby blue.” Larry answered, grinning. “Why d’you think I spent so long preppin’ you at first?”

Sal blanked. Oh.

Oh.

Travis shifted up on the bed, rearranging pillows. “Robert would’a came,” Sal almost felt bad for Travis’s voice. “But he didn’ think you’d be too keen on that.”

“I mean… He could have watched?”

“That sounds like a question.” 

“I mean- this is my first threesome.” Sal admitted with a shrug as he clambered onto the bed.

“Aw, baby’s first threesome.” Larry snickered, watching as Sal paused and looked over his shoulder.

“You are in kicking distance.”

“Kinky.”

“I will make you sit on the floor and watch as I fuck Travis.”

Travis made an agreeable noise as he settled back against the pillows.

“Again- kinky.” Larry stuck his tongue out, winking. 

Sal rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Correction, I’m making it better. If ya can’t laugh durin’ sex, it ain’t good sex.”

“He got a point.”

“Don’t team up against the birthday boy!”

Larry paused, a brow raising as an idea filled his mind. A smirk curled his lips as he watched Travis still, taking in his expression. “Come on, Baby Blue,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Sal’s waist, pulling him back against him.

“Stop it.”

“Baby blue.”

“Stop.”

Travis sat up, reaching out to grab hold of Sal’s arms, tugging him closer. “Weren’t you gonna use me as a cocksleeve?” He asked, smirking as a shudder danced through Sal. He watched he bluenette’s face, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes squeezed shut, how his mouth dropped open into a lovely little ‘o’ as Larry entered him. 

“You’re horrible.” Sal managed to get out through clenched teeth. Travis snickered as he shifted down, tugging a pillow down to slide it beneath him.

“Fuck me, birthday boy.”

Sal shuddered, drawing in a slow, calming breath. Travis spread his legs wide, soft and pliant, trusting. There were lingering bruises on the inside of his thighs; bite marks along his chest. Robert.

Sal wanted to make new marks, cover the old ones. Travis was his tonight.

He reached out, gripping his hips, digging his nails into the eternally tanned skin harsh enough to garner a surprised gasp from the blond. Larry remained still behind Sal, watching from over his shoulder as Sal lined himself up before pushing in slowly, carefully. 

Larry’s gaze tracked up, taking in the look on Travis’ face. His eyes shutting, brow pinching, biting his lip. Fangs.

Fangs.

Oh. Oh, no.

Sal didn’t notice, thankfully. No, his head was dropped, brows pinched as the pleasure settled in from both front and back. He was shaking in his grasp, shuddering, already on the verge of being blissed out. 

Larry gave a gentle thrust, rocking Sal further into Travis. The moans that escaped the pair was heavenly, a chorus of sin. “Happy birthday,” he murmured against Sal’s shoulder as he began to move, gripping Sal’s hips hard enough that there would be bruises come morning. Sal whined as he was moved.

Travis nearly yelled.

Larry grinned, flipped his hair over his shoulder, and set a harsh, demanding pace; the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by harsh gasps, soft moans, sharp exclamations of _“Yes!”_ , _“Fuck!”_ , and _“More!”_.

Sal was still shaking, more and more, the longer they went on. He wasn’t going to last long, not at all. Travis was babbling nonsense, gasping and gripping the sheets so hard, Larry thought they might rip. But his baby blue was grinding back against him, thrusting harshly into Travis. He was the one driving them, conducting this chorus of damned. Larry wasn’t in charge.

No. He was holding on for the ride, too, his chest heaving, hips stuttering. Sweat dripped down golden skin. 

He leaned forward, dragging his tongue up, up, up from between Sal’s shoulder blades to the nape of his neck. The birthday boy let out a ragged moan, his own hips stuttering, losing their rhythm.

Travis whined. Sal let go of one hip to reach up, dragging his nails across his chest, leaving harsh, angry red lines. Trailed higher, higher, until his hand was hovering over Travis’s throat, hesitating. 

“Here,” Larry reached out, covering Sal’s hand with his own, guiding him- not to grip the windpipe, but further back. “Carotid arteries on either side of the neck. Grip them. You wanna make the blood flow more difficult, not cut off his air.” He murmured against the shell of Sal’s ear.

Sal nodded, letting Larry guide his hand. Travis watched, eyes wide, clear. He was present. Good.

“Squeeze.” Travis ordered, swallowing once. “Short bursts. Don’t hold on.”

“Right.” Fingers flexing, he let out a short moan when Larry gave a sudden sharp thrust. Sal tightened his grip, watching as a smile curled Travis’s lips as Larry kicked the pace up once more.

None of them would last much longer.

Sal released Travis’s throat, listening to the ragged gasp he let out. Oh. “That’s- wow.” Shaking his head, he readjusted his grip, watching as Travis reached up, fingers clutching at his wrist. “One means keep going. Two means wait. Three means stop.” He explained, tapping his wrist.

“Should’a talked this over beforehand.” Larry grunted from behind.

Sal let out a snort of agreement. He tightened his fingers again, listening to the softer, high pitched whine that left Travis as he began to thrust once more, harder, faster.

“I-I’m,” Travis manages to gasp out, eyes widening.

“Hold on.” Larry directed Sal, jaw clenching.

Sal didn’t let go, not until Travis tapped his wrist frantically. He released, and Travis’ back bowed, a loud moan escaping him as he came across his and Sal’s stomachs. Normally, Sal would have pulled out. But Larry kept going, fucking Sal, causing Sal to fuck Travis through his orgasm until he was a whimpering, blissed out mess.

Sal didn’t last long. He crumpled forward, whimpering, burying his face in Travis’s neck as he came, filling the condom. 

Larry was last, finishing shortly after Sal with a deep growl.

Afterwards, they lay in the bed, cleaned (thanks to Larry getting damp, warm wash clothes), exhausted and sweaty and giddy. Sal grinned as he brushed his bangs out of his face, shaking his head.

“Good birthday gift?” Travis asked, breaking the silence as he rolled over, curling up against Sal’s side.

“Best. Best birthday gift.” He replied, a soft laugh escaping him.

“Good.” Larry hummed, leaning over to steal a kiss. “Yer gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“So… We aren’t gonna go another round?”

“Give me a _minute_ , Travis!”

* * *

December 21st, 1991  
11:00 a.m.

* * *

Morning broke, bringing with it pain. Sal’s entire _body_ ached, from his hair to his damn feet. How many more rounds they went, he didn’t know. He lost count after three. Standing in Travis’s bathroom, he took in the sight of his skin- the bite marks, the bruises the shape of two different hands, the scratches- Travis had no problem with that, marking his partner up until they looked like they’d been attacked by a wild animal.

It was nice.

Sal had taken a long, hot shower- alone. He needed time to himself; they understood that. He’d taken the time to brush out his hair and all the knots that had formed before scrubbing himself nearly raw. But he felt clean and smelled good, at least.

He’d stolen one of Travis’s shirts, a lavender colored t-shirt, which hung off of him, falling to mid-thigh. Quietly, with damp hair, he made his way through the apartment. It was nice- two bedroom, a full bath, a living room and dining room that bled into the kitchen area. How Travis managed to have this place to himself, he didn’t know.

But it was nice.

“Larry had to go,” Travis called from the kitchen. “His ma called ‘im home.”

Sal paused at that, his brows raising. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Travis grinned and waved him over. “How d’you like yer eggs?”

“Scrambled!” Sal answered immediately, grinning as he shuffled closer. He reached out, wrapping his arms around Travis’s waist, kissing his shoulder blade. “This is nice.”

“You think so?” Travis asked, a smile curling his lips.

“Yeah. Robert’s a lucky man.”

Travis’s hand nearly slipped, the spatula almost falling. “Yeah- yeah, he is.”

* * *

December 31st, 1991  
8:00 p.m.

* * *

_Auld Lang Syne_ was playing everywhere. But that wasn’t surprising, considering it was New Years Eve. Sal had gathered with his friends and father, drinking eggnog and laughing. Now, he was wandering the French Quarter with his father, Larry, and Lisa. Maple said for them to meet up near Royal St. 

The steamboats were all out, too, rolling down the Mighty Mississippi. It was beautiful to see, really. 

Sal shifted his grip on Larry’s arm, standing on his toes, trying to see. Larry let out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“There they are!” Lisa grinned, waving. Maple wove through the crowd, Robert a step behind her.

“Neil’s got us a good place up on th’ balcony over th’ bar he works at!” Maple spoke loud enough to be heard over the crowd and the ever-constant Auld Lang Syne. 

“Lead the way!” 

They began to weave through the crowd, making their way towards the bar. The crowds were thicker here, full of sober and drunk alike. Henry couldn’t help but smile, seeing his son chattering away with friends, out in public without fear. It was nice.

Light blonde hair caught his eye. 

He turned, brows furrowing. No. No- no, she was dead. Had been dead for years. Shaking his head, he turned back, jogging to catch up with his son.

Diane was dead. 

_Diane was dead._

He ignored the way his chest ached suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain.

* * *

December 31st, 1991  
8:30 p.m.

* * *

He was here, just like Red had said he would be. Seeing him again after so long had her feeling things she hadn’t expected to feel- sorrow, anguish, pain. But he had brought her untimely demise upon them. It had been his fault she’d had to leave.

His fault part of her face had been mauled.

His fault.

His _fault_.

_His fault._

She followed behind them. The boy- her boy. Her beloved, darling boy. He dyed his hair, hiding that beautiful ash blonde she’d passed on to him. He clung to the arm of the old servant boy. He’d been working the fields when she’d visited. Red told her what he did.

He’d been turned- by her.

The girl.

His wife.

She was here. Alive. Thriving. Hair dyed silver, piercings in her flesh. A smile on her lips as she clung to the arm of a boy with neon green hair a thick Cajun accent. Her brother was here, too, his hair dyed red and styled high in a mohawk.

There were others. That old butler, the one that the girl had been close to.

Two familiar faces. 

A boy with red hair and freckles on top of freckles. All together. Celebrating.

She’d worn a gown of white and a mask of white, hiding her eyes. 

She would wait. She had a place across from them. She would sit, and wait. 

Just like she’d been instructed.

* * *

December 31st, 1991  
11:57 p.m.

* * *

Three minutes. Sal was excited. Everyone was here, laughing and singing and hugging. Ashley and Travis had found them. Robert had pulled Travis into a kiss the moment he’d appeared, while Ashley snapped a photo of them on her camera.

The crowd was growing louder below them, around them. Sal grinned behind his prosthetic as Larry tugged him closer, resting his chin on his shoulder.

_“Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?”_ A single voice began from the bar below. Larry joined in, as did Ashley, and then Chug- everyone was singing. _“Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?”_

Somewhere, a bagpipe began to play.

_“For auld lang syne, my dear! For auld lang syne! We’ll take a cup o’ kindness, dear, for the sake of auld lang syne!”_ Sal sang along, feeling giddy. 

The clock was ticking down.

_“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne! We’ll take a cup o’ kindness, dear, for the sake of auld lang syne!”_

Ten.

Larry turned him.

Nine.

Sal lifted his prosthetic.

Eight. 

Their gazes met.

Seven.

Sal couldn’t help but laugh.

Six.

Larry brushed some of his hair out of his face.

Five.

Larry leaned down.

Four.

Sal stood up on his toes.

Three.

Their lips met.

Two.

The crowd grew louder.

One.

A camera flashed.

“Happy New Years!” The crowd roared around them as the ball dropped at midnight exactly. The sound of fireworks filled the air, drowning out the cheers.

Drowning out the sound of the gunshot.

Drowning out the confused, pained noise that left Lisa.

Not drowning out Maple’s horrified screams.

“Lisa? Lisa, oh my _god_!”

Larry yanked back from Sal, confusion painted across his face as he turned, looking to his mother.

To the blood that slowly bloomed like a macabre rose across the white of her gown. 

“Mom! Mom, oh my god! Someone call an ambulance! Mom!” Larry yelled, shoving past Sal, past Henry, to get to his mom.

Sal covered his mouth, stifling the sob that spilled out.

Chaos erupted around them. Screams, confusion. The sound of sirens. Police, on the scene quickly, looking for the shooter in the chaos. Larry was crying, sobbing, holding his mother, pressing against the wound as if it would stop the bleeding. Travis was beside him, checking her back for an exit wound.

Maple was sobbing; Robert held her, pulled her close. Ashley was screaming, calling for the paramedics, directing them. Neil and Chug were clearing a path. Henry was moving Larry out of the way, lifting Lisa up in his arms, making his way downstairs. 

Sal was shaking.

He looked across the balcony, to the one across from them.

A woman stood there, still as a picture, staring at them. She wore a gown of white, and a mask of white feathers. Her hair was ash blond, nearly the same shade of his own. Even from here, he could see the scars on the left side of her face. 

She raised a hand, as if to wave. 

Sal backed away, eyes wide in horror, before running after Larry, after his father. 

By the time he made it outside, Larry was climbing into the back of the ambulance to ride with his mother to the hospital. Henry was pulling him, Travis yelling about how they could ride in his truck to the hospital. Ashley was pulling a sobbing Mable along, with Robert trailing after, holding his arm. Blood. There was blood coming from his arm. Had he been shot, too? Everything seemed to be moving too fast but too slow at the same time, the sounds of the world around him muted.

The crowd had cleared, making way for the ambulance. Confused mumbles filled the air, giving way to the haunting echo of bagpipes, still playing that damned song.

_“In the days of Auld Lang Syne…”_


	20. New Years Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bleach and Death  
> Admissions  
> Anger  
> Sleep Walking  
> Ouch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for gore, finally. It's not major- nothing compared to what's going to transpire soon. Also, hospitals? They make me have major anxiety due to a history with hospital waiting rooms. Also, surprise? Two updates in one week? What's this?  
> It's because I won't be updating until May 3rd at earliest, since this weekend is Endgame & the Battle of Winterfell, and I have finals next week (April 29th-May 3rd).  
> But yeah. Some things are vaguely explained here. Others you have to wait to find out. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It makes me so happy to know y'all are liking this!  
> You can find me rambling about this fic on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to make any fanart or cosplay or... Anything, drop me a link so I can see!  
> Enjoy!

_"And when a southern wind comes to raise my soul,_  
 _Spread my spirit like a flock of crows."_  
- _I Will Never Die_ , Delta Rae

* * *

January 1st, 1992  
1:45 a.m.

* * *

The hospital was silent- the room they were in, at least. The floor they were on. They’d been put into an office room. Larry had gone. So had his father. Sal couldn’t sit still, bouncing his leg. His prosthetic was on, but he wanted to take it off. It was too hot, too stifling. He could hear people walking around outside, could hear the occasional yell, the sound of machines beeping. The smell was too clean, too stale; bleach and death and blood mixed. 

The room was big enough for them all to fit in, plus some. It was too big. Too much space. Too little space. No one was talking. Robert had been shot; Neil had dealt with that on the way over. Pulled the bullet out an all; it wasn’t anything major, just tissue, apparently. He’d still gotten stitched up, though, and checked over just to be sure.

Maple was pacing the floor, her skirt swishing about her legs. Todd had stepped out to call his parents on the payphone. Sal worried his lip. He picked at the skin around his nails. No one spoke. 

Travis sat beside him, staring at the wall. His jaw was clenched. He didn’t bounce his leg. 

The sound of the door opening had their heads jerking to the side, eyes wide. It was just Todd. Just Todd.

Just. Todd.

Sal jerked to his feet. He couldn’t sit here anymore. “I’m going for a walk.” He decided, turning on his heel. No one stopped him as he left the room.

He’d go to the cafeteria. His stomach was growling. Maybe they were still open. Or he could at least get something from the vending machine. 

“Hey- wait up.” Todd. Todd was coming.

… Good. He didn’t want to be alone in a hospital.

* * *

“This is bad.” Maple spoke up as soon as the door closed, dragging a hand through her hair.

“More than bad.” Travis replied, looking up at the other through messy blonde bangs.

“What are they gonna find?” Neil asked the question they had all been wondering. 

“Honestly?” Travis began, shaking his head. “I have no idea. They could declare her as being dead. And if they do that, she gets sent to the morgue.”

“What if…” Chug cleared his throat, drawing the gazes of the vampires in the room. “What if she actually is?”

“… Then we have a funeral to plan, and a killer to catch. Because that was almost a perfect shot.” Robert answered with a shake of his head. “They were aiming for more than just Lisa. Or maybe not even Lisa. Who was standing right beside her?”

Silence filled the room.

“Henry.”

“And beside Henry?”

“Sal.”

Maple drug a hand over her face. “Do you think this was a targeted attack against them?”

“I’m not sure.”

Neil rose to his feet, shaking his head. “I thought I saw someone, but I ain’t too sure.”

“Saw _who_?” Maple’s voice dripped low, dripping in anger. 

“… Diane.”

Travis dropped the book he’d been flipping through. 

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be positive, but that hair- that skin.” He shook his head.

Maple all but collapsed down into a rolling chair, shaking her head. “When Larry finds out, he’s going to be out for blood.”

“I know.”

“That still doesn’t address _what they are going to find_.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now- we’ve got to be here for Larry.”

* * *

“I don’t like hospitals.” Sal spoke suddenly, breaking the silence that had grown between himself and Todd. They’d found an empty sitting area by the cafeteria and took it over as their own. It smelled like bleach and food and death. Not a lovely mixture. 

“Who does?” Todd replied as he munched on a bag of chips.

“It just- brings back too many memories.”

Todd stilled, eyes widening. Oh. Oh, of course. Of-course Sal would have bad memories. His _face_.

Sal continued, not noticing Todd’s inner realization. “Just… That day. That day was horrible. I was six, you know? Six years old, and I was just curious. I just wanted to pet the dog, that’s all. I just…” Shaking his head, he reached up, grasping the ends of his pigtails. An anxiety habit. “And then the dog started growling, and I was a stupid six-year old, and then it jumped.”

“Sal…” Todd’s eyes were wide in surprise. Sal had never told him the story- as far as he knew, had never told _any_ of them the story.

“I don’t remember what happened, not really. I- I lost my right eye, during that. Did you know dogs- or any animals, really- go for the eyes first? Because the eyes have the most minerals. And dogs- dogs will give test bites before actually biting down. They’ll nibble and barely break the skin, and then they’ll bite down hard, hard enough to rip skin and to break bone.

“And it did- it was a black dog. A big black dog. Mom came running, and she- she tried to get the dog to leave her alone. But it didn’t. And it turned on her. And I don’t… I don’t remember. There was a man there, but the police never found trace of him. A man was there. And he did something to her. And I ran. I ran and ran until dad found me in the parking lot of the park with my face a bloody mess, screaming bloody murder.

“Someone called for an ambulance. Two- I wasn’t in the same one mom was. She was DOA, apparently. I didn’t get to see her when I was at the hospital. Dad didn’t want me to. But I was allowed to attend the funeral, but I had to go straight back to the hospital because my skin was still too raw from the graphs and stitches and I didn’t have a fake eye yet.” Sal rambled, staring at the floor but not truly seeing it.

Ashley shifted behind them, silent, hidden by the wall. A hand pressed to her lips as tears spilled over her cheeks. Beside her stood Travis, who was shaking, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall in front of them. They had come to check on them, but when they heard Sal talking, they stayed back. And listened.

A silent sob escaped Ashley as she slid to the ground. Travis followed suit, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“I remember the sound, you know? The sound of the dog panting. Growling. Skin ripping… Bone breaking, crunching. But I don’t remember the pain- maybe it was too much for me? Maybe my body shut down from the pain. That’s what the doctors said, at least. I spent four months in the hospital before I was able to leave with a temporary prosthetic for my face. I didn’t look in the mirror for a year. A fucking year. I just. I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at myself. I was scared of what I would see. 

“And when I did look? I cried. I cried and I screamed and dad held me and it was a fucking wreck. He started drinking after that. I think he was afraid to look at my face, too, at first. My hair- it’s the same shade as mom’s. So I started dying it when I was twelve. First I dyed it brown. Then I went red. And then blue. And I like the blue. I kept the blue.”

Todd shook his head slowly, his brain trying to catch up with what Sal was saying. He’d been mauled by a dog like fucking Cujo. He had been _six_. Six years old. And he’d been nearly killed by a dog. And his mother had been killed. 

Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Sal.” Todd whispered, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Sal’s shoulder.

The bluenette shook his head. “Not your fault.”

“I know, but still. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

They remained sitting there on that threadbare couch, listening as orders were occasionally given out over the loudspeaker, as nurses and doctors alike walked past, as other families shuffled through the halls with blank faces and tired eyes. 

Sal hated hospitals.

* * *

January 1st, 1992  
3:33 a.m.

* * *

Larry walked in, his hair tied up in a mess of a bun, with Henry a step behind him. Sal jumped to his feet before anyone else, but he didn’t move towards Larry.

Larry settled into a chair at the opposite end of the table, put his head in his hands, and began to sob.

No one moved. No one spoke. They stood there and listened as Larry sobbed, dread weighing down upon their shoulders like the weight of the world. Henry clapped a hand on Sal’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Lisa’s…” 

Everyone held their breath.

“She’s in recovery. Critical condition. But she’s… She’s stable.” 

A collective breath was loosed, then. Maple all but collapsed into a chair, her face blank. Sal moved past his father to settle down beside Larry. He didn’t touch him. Didn’t disturb him. No, he needed to cry. With anger, relief, sorrow. 

“Sal?” Henry called, brows furrowed. “I’m gonna go to the house and get some things. I want you to come with me.”

“But-”

“This isn’t up for debate.”

Sal looked to Larry, who hadn’t stopped crying. Travis walked over, shaking his head. “I’ll stay with him. Go on- we’ll see y’all in a bit.”

Numbly, Sal rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door. Henry followed, quietly closing the door behind them.

“Lar?” Travis asked softly, taking Sal’s seat. 

Larry raised his head, his cheeks damp with tears. “Didja know there’s a vamp doctor?”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“He took over ma’s surgery. Did somethin’. The bullet grazed her heart. If he didn’ take over, then they would’a declared her dead. But she ain’t. She ain’t dead- well, you know what I mean.”

Travis reached over, grasping Larry’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”

“… Henry talked t’me.”

“About?”

“He thinks he saw his wife earlier. But apparently, that happens sometimes- he’ll see blonde hair, and think that it’s her.”

Travis froze, eyes wide. 

Maple let out a soft sigh. “He probably did see her.”

“What.”

“Neil-”

Neil rose to his feet, glancing about the room. “I saw someone ‘cross from us. I ain’t sure, ‘cause my eyes ain’t the best these days. But… I’d recognize that blonde hair from anywhere. I done spent a good deal o’ time with hair that exact color and texture in th’ kitchens.”

Larry stared Neil down, his face blank. 

“Larry?” Ashley whispered.

“Did she shoot?”

“I ain’t sure.”

“Why- how is she- Sal said she’s dead.”

Todd cleared his throat, and all heads turned to him, realizing that yes, he was still here. Neil groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “Todd knows. Todd’s known for a long while. Longer than Chug.” He explained quickly.

“Glad we’re all on th’ same page, now.” Maple muttered under her breath.

“Sal revealed something to me- I… I’m not sure what all I should say, because I know he’d rather you all hear it from himself. But I will say- Diane was attacked the same time Sal was. And she was dead- they had a funeral for her.”

Travis let out a snort. “Obviously she ain’t fully dead, not in th’ traditional sense. She got dug up.”

Larry rose to his feet slowly, his hands curling into fists. 

“Larry, what’re you doin’?”

“Don’t let me near Sal. Not for a while.” His voice was hoarse, rough as he restrained all the emotions he no doubt wanted to let loose.

“Larry, y’know this ain’t his fault,” Travis argued softly, flinching when Larry raised his hand suddenly.

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout that. Don’t let me near him.”

“Right. So you’re gonna break his heart over somethin’ he don’t even know’s happenin’?”  
Larry spun, grabbing hold of the top of Travis’s chair. He leaned in close, lip curling back to show sharpened incisors. “I don’t give a _damn_ , Travis. My mother was almost killed. An’ as far as I can tell, it was his fucking mother who tried t’kill her.”

Travis didn’t budge, his jaw clenching. “Go cool off.”

“Don’t tell me what t’do.”

Travis reached up, placed his palms upon Larry’s chest, and _shoved_. “I’m tellin’ you to go cool the FUCK off before you do somethin’ you’re gonna regret. Sal ain’t here now. Go take a fucking walk before he gets back.”

“Don’t fuckin’-”

“Let’s go.” Neil didn’t give Larry a chance as he and Robert took hold of his arms and tugged him out of the office.

Ashley whistled softly, shaking her head. “I knew he’d be mad, but this?”

“I know.” Maple rubbed the back of her neck, brow furrowing. “I can’t really blame him, but he’s also just… Emotionally charged righ’ now.”

“I think it’ll be a good idea t’keep Sal away from Larry- for a few days, at the very least.” Robert spoke up, shaking his head. “We know that Larry’s damn well strong. An’ Sal…”

“He’s small.” Todd finished.

Maple let out a snort into her hands. 

“I wonder when we’s gonna be able t’go in an’ see her?” Chug asked, worry filling his voice.

“I’d wager not for a while. If she’s just now outta surgery?” Travis shrugged. “Not till tomorrow, at least. Larry could go in an’ see her, but they won’t let us in. Not yet, anyways.”

* * *

“You know we’re right.” Robert stated, watching as Larry paced in the parking garage. “Sal didn’t do this.”

“I know.” Larry replied, voice nothing more than a growl. “But it don’t change th’ fact-”

“You were standing up for him literally a few weeks back.” Neil cut in, arms crossing over his chest. His hands hurt from Larry throwing punches, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was calming Larry down enough that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

“I know! I know. I just-… This changes things.” 

“Why?”

“It just does.”

“Does it? Or are you just trying to find someone to let all your anger out on?” Robert challenged, stepping closer. “Sal’s a good kid, we all know this. It ain’t his fault whose son he is. He sure as hell don’t know a thing. He’s worried about you, and about Lisa. He even doted on me after I got my arm patched up.”

Larry turned, brows furrowing, gaze falling to the bandage on Robert’s left arm. “I didn’t know you got hit.”

“Surprise, I got shot.”

“I’m…” Tears filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be- fuck. Why would they go after ma?”

“That’s what we’s gonna find out.” 

“Right.” Larry rubbed at his eyes, sniffling. “Right. An’ ma’s gonna be okay.”

“Exactly.”

The sound of ambulance sirens filled the air, piercing the cool January night.

“Happy fuckin’ New Year, right?”

* * *

January 1st, 1992  
5:30 a.m.

* * *

_“Are you sure you aren’t gonna come back?”_ Ashley’s voice was soft across the phone.

“Yeah- yeah. I- I don’t like hospital waiting rooms. The Psych Unit I can handle. But this? I… It’d be better if I stayed here. Just call us if you guys need anything- food, clean clothes. Anything.”

_“Alright, sugar. Get some rest. I’ll call an’ let y’all know any updates.”_

“Thanks, Ash.”

_“No problem.”_

The line went dead.

Sal sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. His prosthetic was tossed aside, sitting on the arm of the couch. He’d already taken a shower, his hair just barely damp now. Henry was in the bathroom now. 

Shakily, he made his way to his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. Tonight had been… Too much. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they left the hospital. The smell had been too much, seeping into his hair, his clothes, his skin. Too much, too many memories. Bleach and death. Bleach and death and painful memories. 

Memories of dog’s breath in his face, of ivory teeth in his eyes, of the sickening pop as his eye was pulled out of its socket, the wet rip as his skin was torn, the harsh crack as his jaw was broken.

The hellish screams that had filled the air- his own or his mother’s, he didn’t know. Someone’s. Screams, screams, screams-

He jerked up from the bed, shaking his head. He wouldn’t be able to sleep; too wired. Too sensitive. Too much.

“She’s dead.” He stated softly, eyes squeezed shut.

There was no way that had been his mother across from them. They had buried her. He’d watched them lower the casket into the ground. 

It had been a closed casket.

I had been a _closed casket._

_It had been a closed casket._

He froze in his place, eyes wide as he stared at the wall. Closed casket.

The lack of food.

The teeth- Travis and Neil and Larry and Ashley.

Sharp teeth. 

His heart was beating too fast, too hard. Not true. It wasn’t true.

_‘But you speak to ghosts.’_ A voice in his head hissed. _‘You see the figure in the corner, do you not?’_

“No.” He shook his head, but his eye trailed to the left corner, where the shadow stood, still as a photograph. It had begun to gain more features, lately. Eyes that were too human. A mouth that was too wide. 

_‘You know something has never been right with you.’_ The voice continued, growing louder, more solid. _‘You know you should not have survived that, right? You know you should have died when that dog attacked you.’_

“Stop it.” He hissed, hands coming to his ears, as if it could block it out.

_‘Come away, little lamb. Come to the water.’_

“No.” He whimpered, shaking his head. 

_‘Come with us. We can show you.’_

“Stop it!”

_‘COME TO THE WATER COME TO THE WATER COME TO THE WATER COMETOTHEWATERCOMETOTHEWATER **COMETOTHEWATER-** ‘_ The voice began to screech, sounding like one voice and a hundred voices at once. 

Sal hit the floor, his knees buckling. He couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t see anything. He pulled on his hair. Was he screaming? He couldn’t tell. Was he even breathing? Liquid. There was liquid coming from his ears. Blood? Were his ears bleeding? 

The sudden silence didn’t register, not at first. It made his ears ring. Sitting up slowly, he looked around numbly. Sunlight was peeking through his window. The shadow figure was nowhere to be seen. Reaching up with shaking hands, he touched his ears, grimacing at the liquid he felt.

Pulling his hand away, a choked noise of surprise left him. Black? Not red? Blood? Was it just… Dark blood? Stumbling to his feet, he made his way to the mirror on the back of the door.

His clothes were soaked. His hair was soaked. He was soaked. 

Why was he so wet?

It was like someone had taken a bucket and just… Dumped it over his head. 

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head- and quickly regretted that action as it threw him off balance.

Pressing his ear to the door, he listened, straining- snores. Henry was asleep. Good. Quietly opening his bedroom door, he slipped across the hall and into the bathroom, quickly closing it. Towel- he needed a towel. Grabbing one he’d used earlier, he quickly patted himself dry before carefully wiping at his ears. It was surely blood, right?

Right?

Blood, if thick enough, could look black in certain lights. Right?

Staring at his reflection, he took in his appearance. Damp hair, wet clothes. 

Water.

Come to the water.

He’d go to the swamp behind the apartments. Water sounded nice. Laying down in the water sounded nice. Letting the water wash over him sounded nice. Sleeping sounded nice.

Water.

* * *

Azaria closed the door behind her, locking it. Her roommates were gone for the holidays. She stayed here; her family was long dead. She drew in a slow breath and turned, gaze sweeping across the courtyard.

Turquoise hair caught her attention. She watched, brows raising in confusion, as Sal made his way down the stairs, his clothing wet. Soaked. 

Dread pooled in her stomach.

Where was Larry?

Quietly, she followed after him- he was _barefoot_. It was _January_. What was he doing? He walked on, out of Addison Apartments- and turned. Turned towards… Larry’s? Was he going to Larry’s?

The sound of a door locking had her head jerking to the side, staring at Terrance’s door. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. 

She crept along the wall, listening- Larry’s door didn’t open. Sal’s footsteps continued. 

The swamp.

By the time she made it to the edge of the wall, he’d reached the chain link fence and had begun to climb it.

Shit!

Eyes wide, she took off in a sprint, reaching the fence just as Sal managed to climb over it. “Sal! Sal Fisher!” She hissed, reaching out to grab his shirt, only for her fingers to just barely brush the back of the material. He didn’t stop- it was as if he was being _pulled_ by some invisible force. 

“Sal! Come on, don’t- don’t go in there!” She called, voice wavering. No, no, no. He kept moving through the underbrush, towards the swamp. She clambered over the fence, nearly falling in her haste. She caught herself by slamming her hand on an oak- and immediately bit down on her lip to stifle the scream that wanted to escape. Looking to her right hand, her eyes widened at the sight of the broken off branch sticking through her hand, right through the center. Blood- deep, dark, old- welled up around the branch.

She whimpered as she pulled her hand free slowly, biting down on her lip hard enough to make blood well up to the surface. A hole. There was a _hole_ through her _hand_. Shaking her head, she looked to Sal, eyes widening at the distance between them. At least fifteen feet. Holding her hand to her chest, she took off in a run, careful to not trip, to not fall into a hole. He was too close to the water. Too close. Too close too close _too close_ -

He fell forward into the water.

“SAL!” She screamed, breaking through the brush. Where was he? _Where was he?!_ Tears filled her eyes as she spun around, looking for him- he’d just fallen in! Where was he?!

“Don’t just stand there, girl!” An old voice spoke, rough and _wrong_. “Grab him before that damned demon does!”

Azaria didn’t question the voice as she lunged forward, falling to her knees. She thrust her hand into the murky water, praying she bothered no water moccasin or alerted any alligator to their presence. Or a snapping turtle. She already had one hand out of commission- she didn’t need another.

Her hand brushed fabric. Fingers gripping, she pulled, nearly screaming with the effort before Sal was pulled free- unconscious. No. No, no, no-

“Get him on land.” The voice commanded once more. She did, tugging him up, up, up onto the grass.

Another hand appeared- the skin covered with age spots and wrinkled. Azaria’s head jerked up, eyes wide as she took in the appearance of the elderly woman. She had white hair that was braided up into an intricate updo. “Who…?”

“Not important. Hold his mouth open.” She instructed. Azaria didn’t argue, plugging Sal’s nose and opening his mouth. The woman didn’t start CPR- no, she hit his sternum once, twice, three times before Sal _wheezed_ , eye flying open before he rolled to his side and began vomiting water. “Get it all out, son. This may not be your only life, but it ain’t your time, yet.”

“Who are you?” Azaria demanded, ignoring as blood dripped onto her thigh from her hand. 

“Rosenberg.” The woman answered simply, watching as Sal shook, coughing. “His father still sleeps. Bring him home.” Sal fell limp, unconscious 

“How do you-”

“There is no time to speak, girl. Get him inside. The witch is here.”

“Robert?”

“ **Go**!” Her voice deepened, the sound of ages long past lingering. Azaria didn’t hesitate as she grabbed hold of Sal and lifted him, carrying him bridal style.

Relief danced across her face at the sight of Robert and Maple, running towards them. “Where the _hell_ is Larry?!”

“Lisa’s in the hospital, long story. What the- _what happened to your hand_?!” Robert exclaimed, taking Sal from her arms as she climbed over the fence.

“Long story. Get Sal inside. Maple, forge a note for Sal, say he went for a walk or something.”

“What?”

“Just- do it.” She jogged ahead, pulling her keys out. She paused, sending a glare at Terrance’s door. Robert breezed past, heading towards her apartment. “Smart.”

“Go unlock your door- he ain’t light.”

Maple slipped past, taking the stairs two at a time before slipping into Sal’s apartment.

Azaria sprinted past, all but slamming into her apartment door before struggling to unlock it. Blood and water made her hands slippery. She cursed herself before finally getting the key into the lock, unlocking the door and swinging it open. Robert barged past her, dumping Sal onto the couch.

“Your hand-”

“I’ll bandage it. Keep an eye on Sal.”

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Maple demanded as she and Chug made her way in.

Chug? Azaria shook her head. He knew. He needed to know about this, too.

“I don’t fucking know. I was gonna go on a run when I saw Sal walkin’ outta his apartment like a zombie, soaking’ wet and barefoot. I thought he’d go to Larry’s place, but he didn’t.” She pulled the first aid kit down, opening it and pulling out a square of gauze and an Ace bandage. “I followed him, an’ then he started headin’ to the swamp, and I panicked and tried to follow, and I slammed my hand into a broken branch.” She paused, hissing as she poured isopropyl alcohol onto the wound. Shit! That hurt! “And then he just fucking- dove into the water. And then this old lady appeared outta nowhere and I’m _fairly_ certain she’s a bog witch. She said this wasn’t his only life-” she froze, her eyes widening.

“Not his only life?” Maple asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“… Shit.”

“Yeah.” Azaria shook her head, securing the bandage. “Okay- Robert, weird request. Look ‘im over. I wanna make sure he ain’t got no marks on ‘im.”

“Marks?” Robert hollered back, confusion bleeding into his voice 

“Old bog witch lady person said to get you. I’m gonna assume Sal might have somethin’ on him.”

“Right.”

She turned her attention to Maple, brow raising. “What’s goin’ on with Lisa?”

Maple paled, rubbing her hands together. “She, uh…” She cleared her throat. “She was shot last night. So was Robert.”

“I’m fine!” Robert yelled quickly.

“She was rushed to the hospital, where she went into emergency surgery. There’s- one of us on the staff. So we lucked out there. But she- Neil thinks he saw Diane.”

“Diane?” Azaria shook her head. “As in, Sal’s mother who may or may not be Red’s sister, Diane?”

“Yes.” 

“… She’s dead.”

“Supposed to be. But Neil swears up and down that it was her.”

“And she shot Lisa, why?”

“I- we think she was aiming for Henry. And Sal.”

“Shit aim.”

Chug let out a snort.

“… You’re right.” Robert’s voice was softer. “C’mere.”

The trio gathered around the couch, staring at Sal’s back. Directly between his shoulder blades lay… A birthmark?

“That’s a birthmark.”

“Looks like one. But it ain’t.” Robert shook his head. “This was placed. Recently- it feels wrong. Dark.”

“… Like how he smells.” Maple murmured. Chug sniffed, brows furrowing. “You can’t smell it- it’s different from how you smell. You smell rich- good. Iron. Like- like a piece of prime rib.”

“… Oh.” His face paled, drawing a laugh from Azaria and Robert. 

“Sal, on the other hand, smells… Wrong. Like- like old blood. Like the gulf. Strong, dark, wrong. I dunno how to explain it.”

“Could this have been placed when he arrived here?” Azaria interrupted, gaze trained on Robert.

“Honestly?” Robert shrugged. “I can’t pinpoint the time. It’s recent, but I can’t tell you how recent- a few months, maybe six?”

“By who?”

“That’s the big question. It’s black magic. This ain’t Voodoo or Hoodoo or anythin’ like that. This is dark. This is like a tracker-”

“A honing beacon-”

“-or a lure.” Azaria whispered, brows furrowing. 

“Either way,” Robert tugged his beanie off. “It’s bad. An’ I believe we need t’talk with Sal. Have a nice come t’Jesus meetin’.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maple asked, head tilting to the side.

“I don’t think we got any other choice, Swan.”

Silence filled the apartment. Chug shuffled his feet, brows furrowed as he tried to understand all of the information that had been dumped. 

“… We should bring Sal home.”

“Right- Chug, you wanna… Make some excuse up?”

“Yup. I’ll go chill at his place. Tell Henry dat we met up on his walk an’ Sal went back t’ bed, an’ I was jus’ hangin’ ‘round t’make sure he’s okay.”

“Good.” Maple leaned over, stealing a kiss from him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Gross.” Azaria stuck her tongue out. 

Chug snickered as he leaned down, grabbing Sal up gently. Maple led him to the door, opening it and leaning against the door frame, watching as he carried Sal across the courtyard and up the stairs.

“So, we have a problem, obviously.” Robert stated, leaning against the back of the couch.

“ _Obviously_.” Azaria grumbled, holding her hand in the air. “Someone call Travis. I need help. Please.”

* * *

January 1st, 1992  
6:00 p.m.

* * *

“You _missed_.” Red hissed, pacing the floor of the house. “You missed, and now we have an even bigger problem.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to!” Diane argued, her lip jutting out in a pout. 

“How did you miss?” He asked, turning to face his sister. The scars on the right side of her face were deep, twisting. That damned dog. That damned dog. He’d taken the thing afterwards and taken care of it.

“I… I panicked.” She admitted, shaking her head. “Seeing them again- it hurt me, Red. It hurt me.”

“I know, I know.” Red stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. “I know how painful it is to see the ones you loved.”

“I didn’t expect for the pain… He’s grown so big. His hair is long. He dyes it.”

“But you know what must be done.”

She didn’t answer.

“He must die- he is our salvation.” Red pulled back, brushing her hair from her face. Unlike her son, she still had both eyes.

Luckily.

“If you do not wish to do this, I can send someone else.”

She considered his offer for a moment before shaking her head. “No- no. I will. I want to. It’s only right.”

“Of course.” He flashed a smile and stepped back, knees almost buckling. 

“You are still weak!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. “You must rest! And feed! Go- go lay down!” 

He didn’t argue with her; he turned, wandering through the halls of the house. Maple had done good, keeping it up. He didn’t enjoy the color palette she’d chosen, but it was good enough. How naïve of her to leave, to go back to the city and leave the property unguarded. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he settled down upon the plush mattress of her bed. Her scent lingered in the room.

A sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes. He was weak, still. How annoying. But with Lisa out of the way now, perhaps he could get at that boy of hers. He would make a perfect slave, truly. To get him to bring Salvador to him- that would be nice.

And to have Salvador’s blood spilt upon the dais, to bring about their domination once more…

The sound of footsteps nearing the door had his lips curling into a smirk. His meal was arriving, right on time.


	21. We Slumber Safely 'Til the Morrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do You Hear the People Sing?  
> Plague Masks are sexy.  
> Something Wicked This Way Comes!  
> There Is A House In New Orleans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My finals are done, I am free, I can type as much as I want. Which is exactly what happened here- this chapter is 25 pages long, and full of history and I honestly hope this explains some things. And I also hope you all catch a few KEY points. No trigger warnings here.  
> I hope you all enjoy this!  
> Also, have google translate ready because there is a LOT of French in here.  
> S o r r y.  
> **EDIT: Somehow, a time stamp got removed. oops. I fixed it.  
> S o r r y.
> 
> Y'all can find me on tumblr screaming about SF and this fic (bc I post snippets of chapters there!) on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to create anything that relates to this fic, whether that be a fic or poetry or a drawing or a cosplay, let me know! Send me a link so I can see, because I absolutely love that sort of thing!  
> Okay, without further ado, the chapter.

_We slumber safely till the morrow,_  
_Though we've by man outcast reviled..._  
- _Ave Maria_

* * *

April 18th, 1722,  
Countryside of France

* * *

“You speak as if we have any choice!” The man hissed, gripping his sister’s arm. “We need to _leave_ , Diane. We cannot stay in France!”

“And go where?!” She shot back, lip curling into a snarl. “We cannot just leave the family here!” She gestured towards the manor, where their family resided. The right wing had been all but sealed off. Silence fell between the siblings as the plague doctor made his way past them and into the house. 

“They are dying, Diane!” Red argued, shaking his head. “They will be dead come the summer, if not sooner; Marseille is plague ridden, and it will begin to spread soon. _Ils vont mourir_!”

“ _Et moi aussi!_ ” She shook her head, her brows pitching.

Red took a surprised step back, honey brown hues wide in surprise. “What?”

“Think of it- I have always been sickly, my lungs were weak- they still are.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “I will catch the plague, and I will die. And you- you will live, brother of mine. You will live, and flourish.” 

“No. Non.” He shook his head quickly, brows furrowing. “You will live.”

“You cannot fight fate.”

“No.” He agreed slowly, eyes narrowing. “But I can fight against it.”

“What do you mean?”

A quick smile pulled at his lips. “Nothing, sister.”

Diane opened her mouth, about to begin questioning him, when the sound of a wail broke through the air. She spun around, her eyes wide, a hand pressed to her chest. “Maman,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Who do you think…?”

“I do not wish to know.” Red replied just as softly, swallowing roughly. 

“… What do you plan to do?” She asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“I plan to live.”

She didn’t stop him as he walked away towards the stables. Instead, she kept her attention on the manor, watching as the plague doctor left, a body carried out in a sheet behind him. Only when they passed her did she turn her gaze away, upward, staring at the endless blue of the sky.

* * *

“You ask about which you cannot understand,” the woman replied as she wove through the caravan. 

“But you have _answers._ ” Red replied, head tilting to the side. “You know what it is I seek.”

“You are better off dying.” She stated simply, turning to face him, sizing him up. She was a slight woman, attractive, with brown hair worn long and free of any decorations. Her eyes were the most peculiar shade of green, seeming almost too bright, too much. “What you ask for is eternal damnation.”

“Or eternal life.” He insisted, watching as her eyes narrowed. “Please. Tell me, show me, teach me.”

Her gaze swept across the caravan before she turned in a swirl of rouge skirts and stepped up, up, up into her wagon. “Come. I will not speak of this in the open.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper as she swept into the colorful wagon. Red paused, glancing around, before following her inside.

“You do know how to do this, then?” Red asked, sitting upon his knees as the woman settled down upon a pile of blankets, her skirts shifting, spreading wide. Silk, he noted; how did a gypsy get their hands on silk?

“I do.” She agreed, smoothing a hand over her skirts. “But it will cost you a hefty price, băiat.” 

“I’m willing to pay it.”

“Are you?” Her voice was soft, lulling. Something was burning, an incense of sorts, filling the wagon. It was a gentle scent with a dark undertone. “Are you certain you are prepared?”

“I am.”

“I do not think you are.” She leaned forward, those emerald hues peering into his very soul. “You are but a boy. Why would you wish to sell your soul?”

“Because I want to live beyond the plague. I want to see the world until its very end.”

A smile curled her lips- red, like blood. Her skin was smooth, a rich tan coloring it, a healthy flush in her cheeks. Her eyelashes were thick and dark. She was beautiful, but every fiber of his being said that he should run. “You poor boy,” she cooed, reaching out to cup his cheek. “You naïve, poor boy.”

“Please…” He whispered, his eyes falling shut. He swallowed roughly as her thumb stroked along his cheekbone. “Please.”

“Please, what? Do you wish for me to kiss you?” She taunted, leaning forward to brush her lips against his forehead. “Do you wish for me to lay you out on your back? To give you pleasure beyond all compare?” A gentle hand settled upon his chest but did not push. “Or do you wish for information, to know how to gain this eternal damnation of an unending life?”

“The… Last.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips down. “The last. Information.”

“Very well.” She reached out, taking hold of his palm. Her nails drug along the skin, dancing upon the border between painful and pleasurable. “You will need to travel to the Vosges. There, in the forest, you will find it. I cannot tell you exactly where, for I am forbidden to do so. You will know when you find it. You will give your life, your soul. You will die, my boy, but you will rise once more.”

“And then?”

“And then, you will live.”

He blinked open his eyes, surprise dancing through him. Sunlight no longer filtered in, but rather, darkness. Night had fallen. How long had he been here? The woman still sat before him, a content smile upon her lips.

“What are you?”

“I have many names. It is better if you do not know.”

“May I know your name?” He asked as he rose to his feet, having to duck so that his head would not hit the roof of the wagon.

She paused, her cup of tea almost to her lips. Or was it not tea? Its contents were dark, swirling, black but not black. A red sheen upon the surface. A curious smile curled her lips. “You will live quite a long time, Red D. L’œil, but you will face many troubles within it. Your life will last far beyond your families, far beyond the plague, beyond the wars to come. You will witness the change in the world before you, and you will marry. You will have riches beyond compare. And you will live, to see the change.”

A chill swept across his skin as he stood, frozen.

“When you travel to Vosges, tell it that Magdalena Rosenberg sent you.” Something dark flittered across her face. 

Red didn’t hesitate to all but throw himself out of the wagon and into the night, gulping down deep breaths. Laughter filled the air, as well as the sound of violins, hurdy gurdies, nyckelharpas. Voices sang in a language he did not know. He felt feverish as he left, stumbling towards his mount. The fire was bright to his left, the embers floating into the air. He barely managed to climb atop the tawny mare before she took off in a fast run, snorting as they rushed through the woods. Children’s laughter seemed to chase them as they wove through the trees.

A smile broke across his lips. He found a way. He knew the way. And they would live.

They would live.

* * *

May 15th, 1722  
Along the border of France and Germany

* * *

She was sick. She was going to die. He was too late. He was too late. He was too late. Too late, too late, _too late_.

Merely a week prior, their mother had taken her final breath during the trek. Everyone else was gone, everyone else was dead. They were all that remained, and now, Diane was sick. She could barely stay atop her horse. 

And now, they were lost. Lost in the forest at the base of the Vosges. There was a lake to his left, the mountains to his right, and nothing but trees before and behind him. He was exhausted, starving, at his wit’s end.

“Leave me.” Diane whispered, a small smile curling her lips. She was pale- so very pale, her skin nearly grey in parlor. “Leave me here.”

“No. No.” Red shook his head vehemently, jaw clenching. “No. She said- she said that I would know.” He dismounted, and a moment later, she was slipping off of her horse. He caught her, just barely- how frail she was! It made his heart race. “I am not going to leave you.” He held her close as he slowly sank to his knees in the sand of the shore of the lake. “I’m not.”

“ _Têtu, si têtu_ ,” Diane whispered, eyes closing. 

“Diane? Diane!” He shook her once, twice, before cursing. She’d passed out. He pressed a hand to her forehead, hissing- she was burning, her fever far too high. Carefully, he set her onto the ground. He couldn’t leave her alone, but he couldn’t take her with him. Torn, he was torn. 

Tears filled his eyes as he rose to his feet, looking between the lake and the forest and Diane. Dread filled him. He would have to leave her to find this promise of eternal life. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he took a shaky step, then another. “I will be back.” He spoke aloud, looking over his shoulder. Her mare had come closer, standing watch beside her. Such a good horse, she was. “Watch over her for me. I will be back.”

A promise. 

Stalking to his stallion, he mounted him quickly, wasting no time in spurring him into a gallop, breaking through the tree line. Daylight still shone through, coloring the forest in rich emeralds and deep russets. The forest was alive around him, teetering with birdsong. He didn’t know where he was going- but something was there. Pulling him. He could feel it in his chest, as if a knot had been tied around his heart and was now pulling, guiding him. This way then that, he went, zigzagging through the trees until the underbrush grew thick and the canopy above him blocked out the sun.

There was no birdsong here, no light drifting down in pools. It was colder, as well; the trees were taller, darker. His mount slowed, all but stopping and snorting, refusing to budge. “ _Allez, allez cheval stupide!_ ” He hissed before dismounting. “Fine. Stay here.” He did not grab his saddlebag; rather, he began to march on with only a hunting knife to protect him.

The sky grew dark, the air became cold. He did not stop. Close, it was close. His skin prickled as if lightning were about to strike; the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Hunted- he was being hunted. Was this part of the ritual?

“Magdalena sent me!” He yelled, listening as his voice did not echo. No bird left the trees, no deer scampered away. Alone. He was utterly alone. “She sent me here to find you!”

“ _And what is it you seek?_ ” A hundred voices seemed to speak at once, surrounding him, inside of him.

His voice trembled as he spoke. “Life. I seek to live, to see a hundred cities rise and fall, to watch the sky fall at the end of days.”

A laugh echoed around him. “ _He seeks to live!_ ” 

“You dare mock me!”

“ _ **Do not threaten us, boy!**_ ” He fell to his knees, eyes wide, shaking at the roar that had suddenly came down upon him. “ _Look at how he trembles!_ ” 

“I am willing to pay any price! I have gold, rubies-”

“ _We care not for gold nor rubies nor emeralds. Our price is far greater._ ”

A twig snapped behind him. He spun, eyes straining to see. The shadows seemed to dance, shifting, playing tricks upon his mind. “Show yourself!”

“ _Can you not see?_ ” A voice whispered beside his ear. He spun, eyes widening at the creature before him. “ _Can you not see? Can you not see? Es-tu aveugle?_ ” It questioned, reaching out with clawed hands. He tried to move, but hands gripped him, holding him in place. “ _You say Magdalena sent you! She pays her debt once more!_ ” A laugh tittered free. He tried to move his head back, to fight, but he couldn’t. A whimper escaped him as hands covered his face, nails digging into the skin. “ _He is young, but a boy! So willing to sell his soul to see the world!_ ”

Pain ripped through him. A yell tore from his throat. 

“ _You wish to see but you cannot!_ ” It snarled, its breath washing over his face, causing him to gag. Rotten meat.

“I do! I can!”

“ _You will pay the price of rubies and iron?_ ”

“Yes!”

A new pain slid through him, one coming from his hand. The hands were jerked from his eyes; he blinked, staring down at the deep slice across his palm. Blood welled up. Rubies. Rubies- blood. Blood, they wanted him to pay in blood. He looked around, finding himself alone once more.

“ _Go forth to the pond and make your offering. She is waiting._ ”

He didn’t ask who “she” was; his palm was bleeding, his head was spinning, but there was a path. A path cleared for him, set with stone. He drew in a slow, steady breath before he began to walk. He could hear laughter, thought he could see figures to either side of him. But when he looked, nothing was there. But there was something there. He knew it. He could feel them looking, could hear their whispers. But he did not stop. He did not stop walking, not until the trees opened to reveal a pond, the water dark as night, a single tree growing from the center of it, it’s branches barren of leaves.

He stilled, fear clutching every piece of him. A woman was sitting at the edge of the water, her hair long, dark- nearly holding a purple sheen to it. She did not move as he approached.

“You are not the first one to come to me, seeking eternal life.” She spoke suddenly, her voice soft but rough, young yet old. “I have seen demigods and generals alike, have watched cities rise and fall, burning and crumbling. I have watched as entire civilizations were swept aside, as the skies turned dark and screams filled the air. Yet, I have not seen one such as you. You, who is willing to give your life to save that of another. Why? Why do you care if she perishes?”

“Because…” He faltered, standing a step behind the woman. “Because she is my sister. My family. I’ve no one else in this world left. She is the light.”

A hum filled the air. “Curious.” She rose, then- slowly. She was tall, thin- her skin was pale, ashen; her gaze dark, inhuman. She reached up, a hand coming to cup his cheek. He wanted to jerk away from the icy touch but remained rooted to the spot. “You will do good, I believe- a replacement for me, for my time has come. I grow tired of this world; I have seen death one thousand times over, and no longer wish to see such things. You humans have grown cruel and will grow crueler.”

“How long…” His voice broke. “How long have you been… Alive?”

A smile curled her lips. “Long enough to have seen the Library of Alexandria in it’s full glory, child.”

It was like a sucker punch to the gut, his breath leaving him in a harsh breath. So long- so very long. If she had lived for so long, could he…? 

“You could, if the Fates play in your favor.” She reassured him. “Come, step into the water.”

Red found himself moving before he realized it, his legs taking it upon themselves to carry him into the dark water. Gaze drifting down, he almost startled at the sight of the water- it truly was dark. Muddied? No, muddy water didn’t look like that. His gaze traveled back to the woman, taking in her appearance.

Inhuman. Other worldly. 

“Close your eyes- it will be easier that way.” Her voice was so gentle, so calming. “It will hurt, more than any other pain you could ever dream of.” 

“I’m prepared.”

A small, sad smile graced her features. “That is what they all say.” 

“Do I get to know what you are called?”

“… I no longer remember my true name.”

That was startling. “Truly?”

“Sadly.” She shook her head. “Kneel.”

Slowly, he sank to his knees. The water was cold, bitterly so, gripping at him, threatening to pull him under. “Shall I give you a name, then?”

She paused, her hands halfway to his head. Her eyes filled with tears as surprise danced across her face- which seemed old yet young simultaneously. Ever shifting. “You may.” She answered at last, her hands lowering to her sides as she waited. 

“I name thee… Adaline Gibson.” A human name for a creature so unendingly inhuman. 

“Adaline…” she murmured, head tilting to the side. “Yes. That will do.” She reached out, cupping his chin, tilting his head up, up, up until he was staring at the canopy above them. He could just barely make out the night sky through the branches and leaves. 

“What will happen?” He asked, voice trembling as he listened to her movements; she was kneeling down in the water before him. 

“You will feel pain a pain that you have never experienced before in your life. Your veins will feel as if I have poured liquid fire into them, your breath will freeze in your lungs, and your body will shut down.” She explained softly, brushing a hand through dark, wavy locks. “You will change, physically. You will hunger. Accept the gifts that the fair folk will leave for you. You will become…” She trailed off, her lips ghosting against the side of his neck. “You will become new, born again.”

“An unholy rebirth…” He mumbled darkly, eyes closing.

Thunder rumbled high above, filling the woods around him with a dark chorus. Chanting- there was chanting, so soft he wouldn’t have noticed it had he not been listening intently. But it was there, and it seemed to elongate the rumble of the thunder- or maybe it was the thunder he heard, the sound of voices and feet hitting the ground. Over and over again, creating a rhythm. 

She opened her mouth; he could feel the scrape of teeth against his neck.

Pain.

Pain. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said it be unlike anything he’d ever felt before. A scream left his lips as his vision became dark. It felt as if it lasted for hours, days, years, the pain coursing through his body. His veins felt as if they were going to melt, as if fire had replaced the blood, as if ice had taken the place of the air in his lungs. 

“Sleep, now.” Adaline whispered, pulling back from him. He could not see, could not watch as her skin began to age rapidly, could not watch as a blissful, thankful smile graced her lips. “For I shall finally feel rest.” Her voice was soft, wavering, as her head fell back. Her body went limp, falling into the dark of the water, never to resurface.

Red fell, sinking below the surface; the pond opening up beneath him, pulling him impossibly deeper. Hands gripped at his arms, tugging him down below the kelp, sinking into the mud at the bottom, until he could no longer see the surface.

Water filled his lungs, coursed through his veins, poured down his throat until he could no longer hope to draw breath. A mistake. This had been a mistake. He tried to fight, tried to swim, but nothing worked. She had killed him, damned him, drowned him.

_“I’m so sorry, Diane. I have damned us both.”_

A wheezing gasp left the man’s lips as he sat upright quickly, his eyes wide in surprise. Water no longer surged down his throat. His body no longer ached. The woman was gone. He looked down, studying his hands, how his skin seemed so smooth. He shook his head, confusion pulling at him.

**Feed.**

What?

**Feed. Eat. Food. Find. Hunger. Hunt. Hunt. Hunt.**

He stumbled to his feet like a newborn deer, unsteady. The world was so much louder, suddenly. The wind through the branches was amplified, the sound of birds’ wings flapping in flight. He turned, eyes wide in awe. The colors were more vivid, as well. Reds mingled with browns in the bark of the trees, emerald leaves shone through the dark. 

He turned, taking in the sight of the animal that lay, freshly butchered. Little tokens and trinkets lay around it- no doubt from the fair folk the woman had mentioned. He fell to his knees, tugging the fawn closer, and did not hesitate to bury his mouth in its throat, biting, ripping, drinking blood that was still warm. It flowed into his mouth, tasting nothing like the bitter iron that a split lip once tasted of. Rich, thick, full of nutrients and taste. 

He pulled back, licking at his lips, wiping at his mouth. It had worked.

It had worked.

He cupped water in his palms, splashing his face with it, washing the evidence of his meal away. 

Diane.

_Diane._

His head jerked to the side, listening as multiple feet padded closer.

Little faces appeared, and with them, blonde hair. Diane. They had brought her to him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, watching as they placed her upon the ground. “You… I will repay you.”

 _“You shall,”_ many voices spoke at once. “ _But not now. We will collect when the time is right._ ”

He nodded, brain still playing catch up. They knew. Was there some sort of agreement? There was much he did not know, did not understand. That witch- that gypsy witch. She would know. She would teach him.

But first, Diane.

“Please…” He whispered aloud, cupping her face gently. She still breathed, still lived. But not for long; her pulse was weak. This would need to be done now, before it was too late.

He lifted her wrist to his lips and did not hesitate, biting down.

“ _Drink deep and watch as she dies. Pull her to the water and let her drown. She will rise once more, just as you._ ” The voices spoke. He watched as her chest slowed, as her breathing stilled as her blood filled his mouth, dripped down his chin. It took his all to pull his mouth away, to drag her into the water, to watch as she was pulled under by the same hands that had gripped him and pulled him down, down, down…

He did not know how much time had passed. He sat and waited, watching. His eyes had closed, and then when they opened once more, she was there, lying on the shore beside him. It took her a while to come to, to wheeze the same way he had, to sit upright suddenly, to look around in confusion. 

“I… I am not dead?” She asked, her voice wavering. 

The fair folk did not bring another gift. He had gone and found her a fox. 

“No- you are not. I am not. We are alive, we will continue to live for centuries.” Red replied, a grin curling his lips. “You need to-”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before she had ripped the fox from his hands and buried her face into its neck, drinking deep. He watched in curiosity as blood dripped from her chin onto her petticoat. 

“You… What did you do to us?” She whispered as she dropped the fox limply onto the ground, horror filling her eyes as she realized what she had done. 

“I have saved us, sister.”

“You have damned us, brother.”

* * *

Paris, France  
September 1st, 1790

* * *

“The revolution is here.” Diane flashed a toothy smile at Red. “How long have we waited for this?”

“Far too long.” He shook his head, his arm hooked with hers. It was not obvious, not yet- but the whispers were there. The sidelong glances, the general air of tension. Things were about to change, surely. “Should we stay?”

“I’ve never seen a revolution like this one.” She replied as she paused, studying a gown in the window. It was beautiful; high collared, a pale blue and ivory. 

“Then stay we shall.” Red decided, nodding. “Unless it grows too dangerous. In which case, we will leave…”

“To the countryside.” She finished for him, glancing up at her brother with a raised brow. “I want that dress.”

“And so you shall get that dress.”

“We should leave France.” She decided suddenly as they entered the shop, leaving Red to close the parasol he’d been carrying for her. “We have been here far too long.”

He nearly dropped the parasol, brows furrowing. “Where would we go?”

“America.” She decided for him, glove covered hands drifting over the fabric of a rich burgundy gown. 

“America?” He echoed, following after her slowly. “Why there?”

“We have never been. We have been to Allemagne, Italie, Norvège… I believe it is time that we leave. Travel across the sea.” She turned, facing him. “ _Excusez-moi? Je voudrais voir cette robe._ ” She called softly to the clerk, watching as the woman hurried over.

“… Are you certain?”

“It is a country full of new places, new chances.” She stepped back as the woman pulled the mannequin from the window and set it down. Slowly, Diane walked around it, her gaze taking in every single detail. “ _Combien?_ ”

“ _Vingt francs._ ” The woman replied softly, watching as Diane nodded slowly.

“ _Je vais le prendre._ ” She flashed a polite smile as the woman nodded and called for assistance. Slowly, she began to wander through the shop. “Do you not think it would be a good idea?”

“If we live through the revolution to the turn of the century…” Red trailed off, looking to the front of the store. “ _Nous irons en Amérique._ ”

* * *

New Orleans, 1802

* * *

“… What a lovely place…” Diane muttered, a brow raising as she turned in the empty manor. “You do plan on having help brought in, yes?”

“Of course.” Red shot back, brows raising. “Or do you think me some sort of idiot?”

She did not answer, instead turning her attention to the walls. “You need artwork. I will find you some.”

“I do not-”

“My name is on the house’s deed as well, is it not?”

Silence.

“I do not intend to stay here.” She turned to face him, a brow raised. “I want to leave. I want to explore. And I intend to do so.”

“You honestly intend on leaving me here?”

“It was not my choice to be alive now, was it? Let me live my life.” She hissed, storming towards him. “It will do you well to remember that you are the one who damned us to eternal life.”

“I saved your life, you ungrateful wretch.”

He didn’t have time to brace for the harsh slap that was delivered to his face. His head jerked to the side as the dull stinging sensation suddenly amplified. He felt it, then- the tears in his skin. She had cut him. With her nails.

Holy shit.

“And you will do well to remember who it was that taught you how to throw a punch.” She replied simply, chin raised high, shoulders squared defiantly. “Find yourself a woman, at least. I will write to you when I settle.”

“Where will you go?”

“… Somewhere.”

He did not stop her as she left the manor, and him, behind.

* * *

January 21st, 1863  
Jasper, Texas

* * *

While the snow did not fall, the air had certainly chilled to an almost alarming degree. For humans, it would be dangerous, but for Diane, it was nothing that a simple fur cloak couldn’t fix. She’d written to Red, telling him of her plot of land here in Texas, how she had planned to raise cattle here. It was a good market, and she could butcher them on her own. 

That’s when she found him, lying on the ground on the edge of her property. His hair was a lovely shade of wheat blond, and his skin held the same dark tone that the Comanche woman at the general store did. She dismounted and rushed over with her waterskin, crouching down beside him. Oh, he was dying. He was so very close to death. Where had he come from?

“You are dying,” she whispered, watching as his eyes struggled to focus on her face. His eyes were an odd mixture of green and blue and brown, as if they couldn’t quite make up their mind on what color they wanted to be. “You are dying, mon enfant. I can help you…” she could. She could take away his pain. She could kill him- or she could change him. Save him.

Save him.

Save him.

Reaching out a gentle hand, she brushed his bangs away from his face. His skin was warm- feverish. “Do you want me to help you?” She asked.

He nodded.

She wasted no time, bending further, lifting his head just enough so that she could reach. She bit down, wincing as he jerked weakly before the tang of his blood hit her tongue, engulfing her senses. She wouldn’t drain him dry, not by far. Just enough to slow his heart. That was the trick- to not drain them completely. If you drain them completely, and you don’t have a water source near, then it would be useless. They would die without coming back. 

But if you leave just enough, they could rise again. A different breed, but alike in many ways.

His eyes closed, his breathing slowed- just enough. Pulling back, she licked her lips clean before lifting the boy- how petite he was!- and slung him over the back of her mount. She didn’t wait, spurring her into a swift gallop. She would need to make food for him.

She’d need to butcher one of her pigs.

* * *

She’d made stew for herself and him, making sure to cook the vegetables before adding the meat, cooking it just enough to not be rare. He’d need the blood. Her gaze swept across her small house, listening- he was moving.

“You are awake?” She asked, watching as his eyes opened, taking in his surroundings.

“Where am I?” He asked, confusion evident. Wariness, as well.

“My house.” She replied simply.

“… What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“… What-”

“It’s the eighteenth of March.” Diane replied. He jolted up in bed. She expected he’d lost count of his days, the poor boy. She went about fixing him a bowl of “stew”, watching from the corner of her eye as he rubbed at his neck.

Ah. Smart one, he is.

“What did you _do_ to me?” He demanded, voice harsh, rough.

“I saved you,” she replied simply, tilting her head to the side. 

“What did you do.” He demanded, anger causing his jaw to clench.

“I gave you a second chance.”

He leapt from the bed, snarling like an angered dog. His incisors were, indeed, pointed now. She did not flinch as he stood less than half a foot from her. No, she had faced down far worse men in her life. He was nothing but a child. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I made you like me, mon enfant.” 

“Don’t call me that!” He demanded, voice breaking.

She raised a brow, staring him down. “You are hungry, no?” Someone had no manners, it seemed.

His stomach growled in answer. A knowing smirk curled her lips.

“Sit. Eat. You need to build your strength back.” She gestured to the little table that had only two chairs. He stared at it. His stomach growled again. She gestured stronger.

He sat down and watched as she poured him a bowl of soup. He didn’t hesitate as she set down the bowl in front of him, grabbing the offered spoon and beginning to practically inhale the food. It was nice, to see someone eat her cooking. She had done good, it seemed. All those years helping her mother in the kitchen… 

He had two more bowls before he sat back, a hand on his stomach. It was then that he looked in the bowl. “… What-”

She cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “You needed to eat.”

“-did you feed me.”

She clicked her tongue and rose to her feet, smooth ing out the delicate lilac skirts of her dress. “I saved your life, and this is how you treat me? You Americans are so very rude.”

The boy shook his head slowly. “What did you do?”

“I gave you the gift of eternal life!” She exclaimed, turning, lip curled up to bare pearly fangs, longer than his own, sharper than his. And she watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

“Oh, no.”

* * *

She explained it all to him after he woke, how she had been on the way home when she’d found him on the ground, nearly dead from dehydration. She asked him if he wanted her to save him, and he had said yes, so she had bit him and drank him dry and brought him back to her house and waited for him to rise.

Apparently, that had been a lot to take in, for he’d passed out once more.

When he woke once more, she fed him again. He didn’t ask what was in the stew. She didn’t offer to give up her recipe.

He stayed with her for four more months, helping her with the cattle and pigs, until it was summer, and she needed to move on. Red was calling her back. There was work to be done back in France, it seemed.

She’d been in the midst of adjusting her saddle when he suddenly blurted out “New Orleans.” Glancing over her shoulder, she studied the boy- Travis, his name was. “I wanna go t’New Orleans.”

“Why there?” She asked as she mounted her mare, a lovely, gentle natured pinto.

He’d told her about Alexander before; his lover who had left this world, this life, far too soon. “’Cause that’s where he was from. An’ I wanna see it. An’ I wanna go t’ the school there.”

“Okay.” She clicked her tongue, her mare turning around, prancing. “To New Orleans we shall go, then.”

“To New Orleans.”

* * *

July 14th, 1863  
4:00 p.m.  
New Orleans, Louisiana

* * *

She’d sent a telegram to Red the moment they’d stepped foot in New Orleans. How much the city had grown since she’d last been here; it had taken her breath away.

“Is it everything you dreamed of, mon enfant?” Diane asked, watching as Travis took the house in. She had helped him, placing a down payment on the house for the first three months; it was the least she could do for him, considering how much he’d helped her with her cattle. That, and perhaps she felt a sort of kinship with him.

“It’s… Decent.” He rubbed the back of his neck; the apartment was nice; it wasn’t in the French Quarter- which wasn’t much of an issue, really; it had its own bathing room, and had more than one bedroom. It was thin width wise, but it was easily six bedrooms long, made of brick and mortar. “You didn’ have t’do this, ma’am; this is too much,” he tried to argue, only to for her to shake her head.

“Non, non. You required a place to live; I would not have you live on the streets!” She smoothed out her skirts and looked around. The bare necessities were here, but there was room for plenty more. “You will need more furniture. And you do need food, mon enfant; you require nutrients that blood cannot give you, such as vegetables.” A motherly tone filled her voice.

“I… Can manage.” He glanced towards the blonde, meeting her gaze- kind, but distant. Always distant. She kept a space between them. Necessary.

“Good.” Clearing her throat, she took one last look around before sticking her hand out. “This is where I leave you, Travis.” She flashed a soft smile, watching as the surprise danced across his features. 

He froze, hand halfway extended. He’d never told her his true name, had he? “How did you…?”

A wink. “I know a lot of things, you see. I have been around for a very long time.”

“… Thank you. Fer everythin’. I… I owe you a lot. Even if I didn’ exactly ask fer this.” He grasped her hand, giving it a firm shake.

She let out a peel of laughter that reminded him of carefree summer days. “Do take care of yourself, mon ami. I do hope we can meet again one day.” With that, she turned with a swirl of ruby skirts and stepped out of the door. She had a carriage waiting for her, loaded up with her belongings. “I am to return to France, long at last. It has been long since I have set foot on their soil.”

“I hope you stay safe, ma’am.” Travis stood in the doorway, watching as she descended the steps and climbed into her carriage. 

Red was waiting within. They weren’t returning to Paris, not just yet.

She climbed into the carriage, settling down across from Red. It had been well over fifty years since she’d last laid eyes upon him. He’d aged subtly- they both did. Their bodies would continue to age slowly, in minor ways. “Your hair is longer.”

“As is yours.” He replied, a smile curling his lips.

“You’ve got facial hair.”

“You… Do not.”

A laugh burst free from Diane as she shook her head. “You’re a fool.”

“It is good t’see you again, Diane.” He admitted. She realized with a slight shock that his accent had all but disappeared. 

“You have lost your roots.”

“I’m afraid I have.” He admitted, shaking his head.

“Have you found a wife?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” 

“Have you found a husband?” He countered, brow raising as she shifted in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Non.”

A smirk tilted his lips. She let out a noise of annoyance.

This would be a long few months, it seemed.

* * *

October 31st, 1863  
New Orleans, Louisiana  
Unknown time

* * *

Diane watched the group curiously from the shadows. Red hunched down behind her, lip curled up in a snarl. “They understand that something ain’t right with her.” He muttered, shaking his head.

“So, what is it that they intend to do?” Diane asked, arms crossing over her chest. She could hear the girl’s cries from here.

“Bleed her.”

“Like a deer?”

“Exactly.”

“How barbaric.” She shook her head. She’d “borrowed” a pair of his trousers and a top, finding it easier to move in men’s clothing than in a full petticoat. “We should help her.”

“Why?”

“She is one of us, is she not?”

“She is, but-”

“Quick, go set fire to one of their sleeping quarters.” She didn’t wait to hear whether or not he’d agree, taking off in a sprint through the hay field. Times like these, she was glad she was short. And that she’d spent so many years as a child playing in the hay fields at the family manor. 

Speaking of, she would be leaving come morning to travel back to France to deal with familial matters- under a false name. She would no longer be Diane, but rather, Amelie. Red had his plantation up and working, and was bringing in more than enough to support himself and her for years.

Not like they truly needed the money, though.

She crouched low, watching as they tied the girl down. Where was Red? Where was the fire?

Oh.

Oh- oh, he was good. She watched as flames jumped from one house to another. Alarmed yells sprung up. Now! She ran forward, jaw clenching as the group began to panic. She didn’t waste another moment, grabbing the girl from the slap of stone and heaving her over.

Oh, no. She’d been torn into.

“Come on, mon ami, do not pass out on me so soon!” She hissed as she led her away.

She could hear the alarmed yells of confusion coming from behind her. 

She didn’t look back- no, she kept her gaze ahead. “There is a surgeon. He is like us. You will go to him. He is not far. You will live, mon ami!” She hissed as they entered the field. 

Red appeared, then, taking the brunt of the girl’s weight as Diane clambered atop her mount. “Give her to me!” She whispered, helping the girl onto the horse in front of her. “Go back to the house, Red!”

“Be safe!” He stepped back, watching as Diane took off, looking like a ghost in the dark of the night. He turned around, studying the chaos with a curious eye. Their houses would be burnt to a crisp.

… He could offer them all a place to sleep in exchange for work.

A cold, cruel smile curled his lips as he whistled, wandering back towards his home.

* * *

July 13th, 1889  
Meridian, Mississippi

* * *

Her name was Maple, and she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman Red had ever laid eyes upon. Her hair was the color of wheat, and her skin was beautifully tanned. She had the sweetest Mississippian drawl he’d heard, and she was kind. 

So very kind.

They had met the year before, her father reaching out to him. An arranged marriage. Red would have turned it down, were it not for the beauty she held.

And she loved the arts, loved animals, enjoyed the outdoors and the indoors. She truly was an enigma, one that enraptured him to no end. And now, standing at the end of the isle, waiting for her…

He couldn’t be more happy in that moment. Diane had sent them her best wishes; there was trouble in France she was dealing with, which made it rather difficult for her to travel here. She would be coming later.

His attention turned to the woman he’d be marrying as she appeared, lead down the isle by her father. She was… Beautiful. Her gown was full, every inch covered with lace, up her throat, down her arms. The bodice was cinched tight, showing off the small waist. She carried a bouquet of lilacs and lavender and baby’s breath.

Beautiful.

He didn’t hear the pastor speak. No, his attention was on her. Maple.

He raised her veil.

“I do.”

“I do.”

He leaned in, kissing her- not for the first time, but it certainly felt as such, as if lightning had danced across his skin.

She was his. Eternally- he would make sure of it.

* * *

September 30th, 1889  
New Orleans, Louisiana

* * *

Diane arrived shortly before a storm hit. She’d always had a flare for the dramatics, after all. She’d changed, wearing makeup now; her lips were such a deep shade of red, he almost mistook it for fresh, arterial blood. And her gowns- they were certainly more lavish, styled in a Rococo fashion.

“Sister,” he greeted, pulling her in, kissing both cheeks. “It’s been too long.”

“It certainly has!” Diane ageed, grinning as she peeked past him. “And- mon dieu! She is as beautiful as you described her to be!” She gushed, brushing past him to approach Maple. “Such beauty- you look as if you belong in the Louvre!” 

“My- thank you, ma’am.” Maple flushed, her cheeks coloring beautifully. “It’s a pleasure t’finally meet you.”

“Non, non, ‘tis my pleasure!” She reached up, brushing some of Maple’s hair back from her face. “Where on Earth did my brother find you?”

“Stop embarrasin’ her, Diane.” 

“Tell me, have you been to the French Opera House yet?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder at Red. “Red used to adore going to the Opera!”

“We haven’t.” Red admitted, almost sheepishly.

“Then I know what we will be doing tomorrow night.” She decided for them, flashing a smile at Maple. “After you show me around New Orleans, that is.”

“I’d be honored!” Maple replied quickly, her eyes widening in surprise.

* * *

October 13th, 1889  
12:30 a.m.

* * *

The smell of smoke woke Diane first. It was still too warm for a fire in her opinion, but perhaps one of the servants- Lisa? Larry?- had grown cold. 

She rolled over in bed, only to pause. There was light coming through her window.

She jolted up in bed, grabbing her dressing gown and tying it around herself quickly. She pushed the doors to her bedroom open, not bothering to be quiet. “Lisa? Lisa!” She called the maid, watching as her door was jerked open quickly. “Go to the field, alert the help! There is a fire!” She called as she ran down the hall to Red and Maple’s room.

She jerked the door open, not bothering to knock beforehand. “Se lever! Rapidement!” She yelled, watching as Red jolted up, Maple sitting up beside him, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. “There is a fire, Red!”

“A fire?” Red asked, sounding far too calm. Diane’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in her brother’s calm composure.

Oh, that bastard.

“Come, come!” She rushed forward, pulling Maple from the bed, helping her into her dressing gown. “The river! We will be safe there, yes?”

“Yes, yes. I need to go see…” Red clambered out of bed and faked haste, rushing through the doors.

“My brother, he sleeps out with the help-”

“There is no time, mon ami- I am certain he will be fine.” Diane pulled her along.

“But-”

“Come!” Her grip tightened around Maple’s wrist, pulling her down the stairs and through the back. Maple stumbled, a gasp leaving her throat as she took in the sight of the blaze.

“Someone set the field on fire!”

Red joined them, climbing into the boat and pushing away from the dock. Maple fought against Diane at first, yelling about Robert, but Diane held fast, holding her to her bosom before she fell limp, sobbing. 

“ _Ça ira._ ” Diane whispered, rubbing her back gently. “ _Ça ira_ …” Her gaze drifted to Red, studying his posture, how calm he had seemed. Something dark twisted in her gut. 

Her brother had changed.

* * *

December 11th, 1889

* * *

“ _Ne me ment pas!_ ” Diane hissed, following after Red as they walked through the dead remains of the field. “I know you better than you think!”

“Why would I set fire to my own field, Diane?” He countered casually.

“Because you tire of being here! You wanted to leave! And spirit her away!” She replied, reaching out to grasp his wrist, jerking him around. Surprise colored his features at her strength. “ _Tu as changé._ You are not the man I once knew.”

His hand raised.

She raised her own, meeting his slap with a harsh slash of nails.

A hiss escaped him as she clutched his hand.

“Do not forget that I am the monster that you have created.” She hissed before turning on her heel, storming back to the house.

She packed her belongings quickly, with Lisa and Neil’s help. She would not remain here. There was still business in France she needed to deal with, closing out the family property. She cared not for what Red would think when she did this. No- it was necessary.

“Maple,” she pulled the girl into a tight embrace. “Do keep yourself safe, yes?”

Confusion danced across Maple’s face. “Of course I will, Miss Diane.”

Diane leaned in, pressing a kiss to both cheeks. “Good. I will you see you soon, I do hope? France is lovely in the spring.”

* * *

January 1st, 1890

* * *

His hands shook as he made his way to the dining room. So long, it had been. So long, too long. But the thirst was so strong; he had no appetite, not for food. He needed her. Craved her in more than just intimacy. She smelled so sweet.

She would taste delicious, he was certain.

“Kind of you to finally join me,” Maple commented, reaching for a biscuit. She took hold of a knife, slicing through a brick of butter.

“I apologize for being so busy, my love.” Red replied, watching her movements carefully. She was mad. She had a right to be. He had been neglecting her. Perhaps a vacation would do them good. France was lovely in the spring…

Her hand slipped.

A hiss escaped her.

The scent of blood filled the air.

It happened so quickly.

He couldn’t handle it; he launched himself from his chair, grabbing her and pinning her to the table, knocking the wind from her. Her eyes were so wide, so full of fear. Maple found herself pinned to the table, the wind knocked from her lungs. 

She reacted on instinct, striking out; her nails cut through lightly tanned skin.

Red jerked back, eyes wide, lips curled back to reveal sharpened incisors. He released her to clutch at his cheek.

She screamed. Ran.

He caught her.

She screamed for Robert, for Lisa, for anyone.

No one came. He’d sent everyone that wasn’t necessary away.

All except for Neil. Neil, sweet, kind, gentle Neil. Who came running, a knife in hand. But it was no use; Red’s teeth had already met her neck, sinking deep, allowing for the rich taste to fill his senses. She fell limp, her breathing slowing. It had frozen Neil. The poor man looked ready to cry- or maybe he did cry. The sound of the knife clattering to the floor had Red pulling back, chin glistening with arterial blood.

He advanced on Neil, backing the cook into the corner. He was strong, but fear makes men weak. He pinned him to the wall, listening to Neil’s cries for help, listening as they turned to screams of bloody murder when he bit down upon his neck.

This was not his plan.

Red had spent the night sitting by Maple’s side, waiting. And when she awoke, he explained it to her. What he was. What he’d done. And she had screamed at him. Screamed, threw gilded candle bras at him, slapped him. Tore the room apart before turning on him, ready to tear him apart as well.

He left after that. He didn’t return, not for an entire month. No, he spent time north, gambling, whoring, enjoying life. There was one prostitute he’d enjoyed countless times before she became boring. And he never kept his playthings around for long. 

She screamed in such a beautiful manner.

But when he returned in February, he found them to be a mess, their skin ashen, feasting upon rats. Rats! It made his lip curl. 

“Animals, the two of you are.” He gripped their arms and tugged them inside, into his office. Sat them both down and explained what he had done, what they were. Why they craved blood rather than food. And he’d sat and watched as Maple screamed and sobbed and cursed him. As Neil turned a table over in his anger.

He left them to their destruction. He needed to check on his field and the help.

* * *

April 30th, 1890

* * *

He’d made a mistake. He’d been so thirsty, this mind foggy. And Robert had been there, willing to help. And his blood smelled divine. And he didn’t mean to.

He’d made a mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake mistake _mistake mistake mistake mistake mistake mistake mistake MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE **MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKEMISTAKEMISTAKEMISTAKEMISTAKE-**_

* * *

June 14th, 1890

* * *

The riverboat had been lovely. He’d spent the day making business connections with men from all across the North and South, and the night gambling and indulging in life’s finery. Women and men alike.

When he returned, something had changed. The air was different. 

Maple was planning to kill him.

Oh, he knew. Knew this was coming ever since he’d changed her. She should be THANKFUL. She should think herself BLESSED that he gave her this GIFT. 

If she wanted to kill him, she would have an audience. He invited Lisa and Larry Johnson.

He knew very well what he was doing. 

Maple dressed up for him, in a white and lilac lace dress. Had met him at the door with a kiss on the cheek. 

As he took a bite of Andouille sausage, his gaze drifted from Lisa, to Larry, to Maple.

“Drop the knife, darling.” Red spoke suddenly, as the doors closed tight. Larry and Lisa both jumped, Larry grabbing his mother and pulling her back. An amused smile curled his lips as he sat back in his chair, watching the anger fill her eyes.

Cold. Bloodthirsty. Hatred.

“I hate you.” She stated, voice calm. 

“And what do you plan on doing, dearest?” He asked, head tilting to the side. “What can you do?” The sound of screams outside had her head jerking around, hands gripping the edge of the table as she watched the doors slam shut. 

Red had moved across the room, and Larry was making a horrible sound that was a mixture of a scream and a gurgle. His eyes were wide as he gripped Red’s wrist, confusion painted across his young, innocent face. Maple’s head jerked back around, eyes wide as she realized what had happened, the sounds of screams from outside falling into the background.

Red twisted his hand, enjoying the way Larry’s face twisted, a whimper pulling free. “I’m afraid you’re work here is done, boy.”

Maple screamed, a sound full of anger and hatred. A banshee’s scream, louder than those outside of the home.

Lisa screamed; a piercing, horrible sound full of anguish and anger and horror that made chills dance across Maple’s skin. Music to Red’s ears.

Larry’s shirt was blooming with blood; the knife had been buried beneath his ribs, and was being dragged back, into his back. Larry was clinging to Red, staring up at him with wide, tearful brown eyes, confusion painted across his features. Red chuckled at the innocence he found there.

Maple launched herself across the table, screaming bloody murder. His strong, beautiful wife.

He moved quickly, jerking the knife free of Larry, letting the boy crumple to the floor, and drove the knife into Lisa’s sternum.

Maple stumbled over her skirts, fell forward, and drove the knife deep, finding purchase in his shoulder. She continued to fall, gravity pulling her down; she dragged the knife with her, listening to Red yell in pain. Down, down, down she went, carving to the bone from shoulder to waist, blood blooming across his perfect, white shirt, covering her hand, her arm, spilling onto the floor. 

It smelled wrong. Bitter. Old. Like a crypt had been opened. It had her stomach lurching.

She landed at his feet; he turned, growling, throwing out a kick that connected with her ribs. She coughed, gasping, curling on herself as she tried to keep her breath. He took one look around. “Pathetic,” he sneered, shaking his head as he made his way to the doors, throwing them open.

He didn’t stay to watch, to see what she would do- if she would put them out of their misery, or change them. He didn’t care. He was done here. He would go North, now. There was business there. A carriage had been packed with his most valuable items and papers and was waiting for him outside. 

On the riverboat, he’d made friends. Terrance Addison was his name; he knew people, it seemed. And they had come, starving and thirsting for blood.

“Tell me, Terrance…” Red began as he settled into the carriage. “What is New Jersey like?”

* * *

Paris, France  
September 19th, 1970

* * *

The man made his way through the streets, his gaze trained upon the Eiffel Tower. How beautiful it truly was. He’d promise his mother that he would get plenty of photographs while he was here for them to see. He’d been so caught up in looking at the landmark that he hadn’t watched where he was going, and felt himself bump into someone.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, turning with wide eyes and a stark blush. “I- uh, _Je suis vraiment désolé_.” He spoke in stunted French, brows furrowing. The woman turned, then, ash blonde hair long and curled, wide blue eyes like the sky in the middle of June staring him down.

“Your French is bad.” She stated in accented English, arms crossing over her chest. “And you made me drop my ice cream.”

“I- You speak English?” He was surprised- so far, everyone he had met spoke French.

“Of course I do!” She raised a brow.

“Is everything alright?” Came a new voice, smooth as silk. A man approached; his hair was dark as night, long, wavy. His eyes were such an intense shade of brown, they looked almost red.

“He bumped into me, but apologized. But now he owes me an ice cream.”

“And who is this man?” 

“I- ah. Pardon me. My name’s Henry Fisher.” Henry extended a hand, a sheepish smile curling his lips.

The dark haired man shook his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Henry. My name is Red. This is my sister, Diane.”

“A pleasure.” Diane echoed, a small, mysterious smile curling her lips. A Mona Lisa smile. “What brings you to Paris?”

“I’m studying abroad, actually.” Henry shifted his messenger bag, still clearly flustered. “This is, uh, actually- this is my first night here.”

“Truly?” Diane clapped her hands, looking up at her brother before back to Henry. “Let us show you around! Please! Oh, it has been so very long since we have spoken with anyone from America!”

“I- I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“Nonsense.” Red flashed a bright smile. “Come, eat with us.”

“Please? You owe me for the ice cream!”

“I… Alright, sure.”

“What part are you from?” Diane asked as she hooked her arm through Henry’s, plucking his camera from his hands.

“New York.”

“Really?” Red hummed, leading them towards the Eiffel Tower. “I’ve visited there, once. I prefer New Orleans, myself…”


	22. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations.  
> Cats.  
> Shadows.  
> Glass.  
> Metal.  
> Breathe.  
> Scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while and I'm really sorry. A lot has happened since I last updated; my cat, Mimzy, passed away from old age, I've had two separate dental procedures done (I just had a tooth pulled two days ago actually). I'm not working until August so I have a lot of free time, at least!   
> So, this chapter. I had rewritten it FIVE TIMES. This is the version I'm happiest with. Things are going to start looking... choppier?   
> But there is a reason.   
> The next few chapters will also be shorter for the same reason which I'm going to reveal.   
> Trigger warnings apply here: Car accident. A death. Sleep paralysis, as well.   
> All things will be answered in time.

January 13th, 1992  
New Orleans, Louisiana   
5:15 a.m.

* * *

Larry ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the knots that had gathered; he’d been too distracted to braid it back before jumping on his bike. Lisa had been able to come home, finally; somehow, they managed to avoid all suspicion while she healed. He wasn’t sure how that damned doctor did it, but he did, and he was forever grateful to him. 

She was resting- healing quickly, thanks in part to the copious amounts of bagged blood that Travis had brought over. Connections, he’d claimed with a shrug.

“What’s so urgent that you needed me at the ass crack of dawn?” Larry asked as he stepped into the foyer, Robert closing the door behind him.

“You need to see this.” He replied, shaking his head. “It’s insane.”

“Good insane or…?”

Robert didn’t answer.

Larry hands began to shake. He shoved them into his pockets. 

Maple was sitting at the dinning table, Neil sitting across from her. Between them sat a pile of photographs. 

“Are we going through the photo albums again?” Larry teased in an attempt to break the tense silence.

“Take a seat.” Maple replied, arms crossed over her chest. She wore an old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that was practically a dress on her.

Larry settled down beside her, leaning forward to snatch a photograph- only to pause, brows furrowing. “What am I lookin’ at?”

“This,” Neil began, sounding absolutely exhausted, “is from my bar’s security cameras. Look at ‘em.”

Larry raised a brow but brought the photograph closer, staring at the grainy black and white images. The bar was busy, as usual. People were standing around. The bartender was pouring drinks. There was a couple standing, looking out.

Looking up.

At the camera.

A chill danced down his spine as he realized what he was looking at. Staring back at him was a scarred face of a blonde woman and the handsome, sharp features of a dark-haired man, both dressed to the nines. They held an old-world sort of air about them, even in the photograph. 

Diane and Red.

 _Diane and Red_ had been in Neil’s _bar_.

“That was New Years Eve.” Neil explained softly, watching as Larry’s hand shook, causing the photograph to shake. “Take three hours befo’ Missus Lisa was shot.”

“They were here.” Maple hissed, shaking her head. “Just below us. And we didn’ even know.”

“If they was there, where else could they have been? How long?” Robert added, shaking his head in obvious frustration.

“… Terrance.” Larry spoke suddenly, brows furrowing.

“What?”

“That’s Terrance beside Red.” He set the picture down, finger tapping a face of a tanned, petite man with dark hair. “That’s Terrance.”

“Why would Terrance…?”

Realization dawned upon them. Larry ground his teeth together as his hands curled into fists. “That mother fucker.”

* * *

January 13th, 1992  
9:50 a.m.

* * *

“You’re really good.” Sal shook his head as he watched Ashley go through her prints. “Like, holy cow.”

“Me? Naw, sugar! You should see some o’ the portraits Larry’s painted!” She pulled free a large image, already framed. It was black and white; the light darker compared to the others he’d seen. It took Sal a minute before it clicked in his mind that it was Larry there. Larry, standing before a mirror that was lit by little bulbs around the glass, as if they were in a dressing room. His hair was loose, falling around his face, down to the middle of his back. He stood half-facing Ashley, his eyes closed, face surprisingly serene. He was shirtless, revealing the few tattoos that were scattered across his flesh; a wolf’s head upon his right bicep, a classic pinup on his left forearm, the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer across his right ribs in scrawling script. His hands were folded delicately, loosely.

“This is… Impressive.” Sal managed to get out after a moment, swallowing roughly. 

“What is?” Ashely asked, having grown distracted by Larry’s portraits. “Oh! That! Yeah- it was fo’ a college class I took. I asked him t’model fo’ me an’ he did! I got a pretty high grade on dat one!”

“I can see why…” Carefully, he set the photograph aside before turning his attention to the paintings Ash had pulled out. His gaze fell upon a large canvas with a single black dog sitting on lavish, dark green grass. Its’ cool gaze stared out at him, eyes a shade not quite red, not quite brown. Its muzzle was fuzzy- the entire dog was fuzzy, really. But he could see the details so well- the gleam in the eyes that hinted at madness, the slight snarl that lifted the beast’s lips, the way the moonlight shone upon the inky coat. 

Sal felt his breath catch in his throat. The dog was too real. The dog was real. The dog had bitten into his face and tore through his flesh. He looked away, blinking tears away. 

“… C’mon- we gotta get you back home, yeah?” Ashley asked, head tilting to the side. 

“Right… Yeah.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, watching as she grabbed her keys. His eyes narrowed at the way her hand flinched back from a rosary that sat upon her nightstand as if it had burned her.

“Let’s go!”

* * *

January 13th, 1992  
3:05 p.m.

* * *

Todd brought him his study guide for Chemistry; he’d missed school due to having a therapy appointment. It was necessary. He needed it, he knew he did. Thankfully, the school was understanding enough, and his teachers were all really nice. He couldn’t complain about that, not at all. 

The hair on the back of his neck rose as Todd shifted on the bed, mumbling about formulas. Sal kept his gaze trained on the papers in front of him, idly tapping his pencil upon the edge of the textbook. Their test was at the end of the week; it was Wednesday. He needed to study. He had to study. Keep his grades up.

Movement caught his eye.

Gaze flicking up, he stared at the corner of the bedroom. The… Thing was a permanent fixture there, now. It never left his room, not any more. It just sat in the corner and watched with it’s too-white eyes, too many teeth crowding its mouth. He could see them now as its lips spread into a slow grin. Sal didn’t react. Todd was too busy focusing on the study guide to notice. Besides, it would look like Sal was just zoning out, given the mask and all. The shadow figure shifted. Its face began to shift. 

That was new.

Sal watched in growing horror as it’s face became more and more canine, it’s snout elongating, the teeth still too many, too big. It’s eyes didn’t change, but they were wild. Wild and too white and too human in an animal’s face. It lunged at him.

Sal jerked back, prompting a soft, confused noise to escape Todd. The shadow figure had the gall to mimic laughter.

Somewhere in the apartment, glass shattered. 

“What the fuck?” Sal asked while Todd shook his head. Sal rose to his feet, brows furrowing as he glanced over his shoulder at Todd. “Stay here.”

“And have a cliché horror movie scenario play out? I don’t think so.” Todd set his book aside and clambered off of the bed, reaching over to grab a wooden baseball bat that Henry had given Sal after their apartment had been broken into twice.

Sal moved quietly, bare feet barely making a sound on the carpet as they eased their way out of his bedroom and into the hall. Movement could be heard in the kitchen; had someone broken in again? He didn’t wait for them to show themselves, instead creeping his way around the couch before poking his head around the side.

A surprised hum escaped him as he rose suddenly.

“Salem.” 

“What?” Todd slipped around, eyes widening at the sight of the Persian. “Oh!”

Sal shuffled over, careful to avoid the shards of shattered glass on the kitchen floor and bent down to scoop up the feline. “What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Larry today…” He asked softly as the cat poked it’s tongue out at him and made absolutely no move to escape.

“How’d he even get in?” Todd asked curiously, reaching over to give the feline a scratch behind the ears, much to its delight.

“Maybe he came in when you came in? He’s sneaky like that.” Shrugging and cuddling the cat to his chest, Sal made his way back to his bedroom. “I’m gonna drop him in my room and then I’ll clean up that glass!” He hollered over his shoulder. Todd lingered for a moment, staring at the glass.

At the dark drops of blood that hadn’t come from the cat that dripped towards the front door.

Quietly, he grabbed a wash cloth, wet it down, and scrubbed the drops away before Sal could see them.

* * *

January 13th, 1992  
11:30 p.m.

* * *

_The water rushes around his head, curling around his body, pulling him first this way then that. Had he been caught in a rip tide? He should have listened. The water was dangerous, even if it felt like home._

_Something was gripping his ankle, pulling him down. He wanted to scream, tried to fight, but when he opened his mouth, swamp water gushed in, forcing it’s way down his throat, filling his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, COULDN’T BREATHE-_

Sal jerked awake, startling Salem who had been asleep upon his chest. He gulped down deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling with a wide blue eye. The nightlight still burned bright across the room. The stars on his ceiling glowed ever so faintly. His hair wasn’t wet, nor were his boxers. His sheets were tangled around his legs, but that was normal. He could breathe. He could still hear the sound of the television playing in the living room; dad must have fallen asleep with it on. 

Shaking his head, he reached down, dragging a hand across Salem’s back. The cat resettled itself, curling up once more, it’s purr like a mini engine on his chest. The electric fan whirred softly in the corner. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. A cold sweat slicked his palms as he frowned; something was off. It was probably just the nightmare, though. Larry was home; he’d dropped by earlier with takeout he’d gotten, giving Sal and Henry some before leaving to eat with Lisa. 

He couldn’t roll over; not with Salem now sleeping on his chest. He was forced to lay on his back. That was fine. He could fall asleep any way, really. The new medication he’d been given worked really well, too- his insomnia was rarely there these past few weeks. Which was good- he needed the sleep. Eye closing, he breathed deep, slow.

Salem’s claws dug into his chest.

Salem’s purring stopped.

Sal cracked open an eye. Salem wasn’t looking at him. Salem was looking at the corner where the Shadow liked to lurk. The Shadow wasn’t there now. Or maybe it was? It was dark. Sal couldn’t see the too-many-teeth smile. He normally always could.

Salem was growling. Salem was _growling_ at the corner of his room.

A chill swept across his skin the same moment he was doused in a cold sweat. His voice caught in his throat. Something was wrong. Salem was standing now, the hair along his spine on end. Growling at the corner. Sal couldn’t see. He couldn’t see past Salem’s fur.

Until Salem jumped down and disappeared beneath Sal’s bed. A moment of pure stillness passed, as if time had stopped, as if the world was holding its breath. The bright red numbers of his alarm clock read 11:44 p.m.

He couldn’t have screamed even if he wanted to. One moment he was staring at the red numbers, the next, too wide eyes and too big of a smile in a face of solid black, as if it were made out of the void itself. He tried to move, tried to do something, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even blink. The Shadow stared at him, it’s head tilting this way then that. It leaned in close- too close. 

Salem yowled. The Shadow wavered, grimaced, and disappeared.

The cat lept back onto the bed, hissing and growling, staring at the corner. Sal was able to move, finally; he pushed himself up and into the opposite corner quickly, chest heaving. Salem settled himself down in front of him, staring the corner down.

Sal didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

* * *

January 13th, 1992  
11:40 p.m.  
Baton Rouge, Louisiana

* * *

Green hair that desperately needed to be dyed again blew softly in the wind that blew in from the cracked window. Brown eyes were focused on the open highway in front of him. Chug had gone to visit his aunt in Baton Rouge. He was now the proud uncle to an adorable little girl. A smile curled his lips as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and whistled along to the song playing; _Patience_ by Guns ‘N’ Roses.

Maple was behind him somewhere; she’d driven her own car. She needed to get some things before she went home; said it would be easier if they just took separate vehicles. Which worked out nicely. He couldn’t have her seeing the velvet box he’d gotten from his aunt. His grandmother’s ring. 

Graduation was fast approaching. He’d ask her afterwards. 

The road was clear, and open, and the breeze was nice. The sky was clear. No fog crossed the road. A perfect night, really. He glanced into his rearview mirror for a moment; a habit, despite knowing that he had the road to himself right now. Blinker turned on, he went to pull off the highway.

Brown hues widened in surprise as he twisted the wheel to avoid the woman standing in the middle of the highway. His truck veered left, hard. A yell left him as he tried to stabilize the truck, only for it to tip, tip, tip- and roll. Roll, roll, roll. Over and over; glass shattered all around him. The sound of metal crunching and scraping filled his ears. His chest was tight; had he broken a rib? It hurt to breathe.

Finally, the truck came to a stop on it’s top in the center of the road. Chug blinked slowly, dazedly. He was almost to Metairie. His parents were going to be pissed. He could already hear distant sirens; someone had seen his crash, right? He tried to get to his belt, but his arms were pinned by the steering wheel. A wheeze bubbled up, tasting faintly of iron. 

He looked to the left, watching as someone knelt down. Someone had seen him crash! “Help,” he croaked, voice barely above a whisper. But the person didn’t move. Just sat there. “Help me,” he tried again. His breath caught in his throat as the face appeared. Long, blonde hair. Blue eyes. Scarred. The face was scarred. Like a dog had ripped into it. Like Sal’s.

Diane.

His eyes widened.

“Hush now.” She whispered, reaching in and covering his nose and mouth. “Hush.” She had a firm grip even as he struggled, as he fought. He needed to breathe!

Spots appeared in his vision. His lungs burned. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t breathe. His body jerked once, twice, three times before falling still.

Diane pulled away, stepped gracefully over the glass, and returned to her car. A smile curled her lips as the sirens grew louder. Slipping into the backseat, she nodded to her driver, who flashed a crimson-lipped grin back at her as they took off. She watched through tinted windows as Maple’s car slammed to a stop, as the girl clambered out. She cracked her window just to hear the girl.

“Chug? Chug!” Maple screamed, hands over her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks as the ambulance arrived. “Somebody help!”

“Where to?” Her driver asked.

“Home, please.”


	23. If You Had Life Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Is A Mental Breakdown (dodo do doo. dododo do doo.)  
> Sad Times.  
> Blood Bags.  
> Sleeping in your boyfriend's bed.  
> Shadows.  
> Bog Witch???????????  
> A Visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still posting this during the week it needed to be posted HA.   
> Hi, hello. This chapter is a lot longer in Word than what I'm posting here because I had to split it up into two chapters. The next portion will be posted in a few days. There were just. Things. that needed to be explored and the plot needed to deepen here. This isn't as dark as I originally planned, but that's a-okay because the next chapter 100% makes up for that! The biggest warning I have to say is talking about death.   
> I hope y'all enjoy this.  
> Yes, I caved and used a song that is most definitely not from the 90s. Ghost is a good band. Don't kill me.   
> As always, thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! It makes me so happy to know y'all are liking this!  
> You can find me rambling about this fic on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to make any fanart or cosplay or... Anything, drop me a link so I can see!  
> Enjoy!

_“I know the light grows darker down below; but in your eyes, it’s gone before you know.”_  
- _Life Eternal_ , Ghost B.C.

* * *

January 14th, 1992  
5:30 a.m.

* * *

“-up. Sal, dude, come on, wake up!” The voice was vaguely familiar, pulling Sal from an unintentional sleep. Salem was curled up on the pillow beside him, making a soft ‘mrrp’ of annoyance when he was poked. 

“Wh’ time…?” Sal mumbled, scrubbing at his face as he sat up. Sometime between being scared out of his mind and now, he’d slumped over and curled up, falling asleep. Blinking a few times, his eye adjusted to the light- and the fact that his room was not empty. Rather, Todd stood by the door, shuffling his feet, while Larry stood over him. 

“It’s five thirty. Your dad’s makin’ coffee. We-… Sal, we need to talk.” Larry rubbed the back of his head, and it was then that Sal noticed the red irritation beneath chocolate hues, the way Todd’s face was flushed, how both of them kept sniffling. A chill crept along his skin as he shook his head slowly, clarity taking over the fog within his mind.

“What happened?”

“It’s better if we talk in the living room.” Larry reached out, helping him up and out of bed. Sal paused, glancing around his room, before he snagged a discarded hoodie and tugged it on, warding off the chill of the early morning. Salem jumped down from the bed and stretched before zooming out of the bedroom as Todd opened the door. 

The sound of the early morning newscast reached his ears, followed by the scent of fresh coffee. All the lights were on. Slowly, the central heat began to gurgle to life. Rubbing at his face, Sal made his way into the living room, confusion beginning to cloud his mind, battling with the struggle for clarity and warring off the constant nag to crawl back in bed and sleep. Yet, he remained on his feet, though leaned against the sturdy form of Larry beside him.

Wait, no. Not study. He was shaking. Why was he shaking?

“Mr. Fisher, he’s awake.” Todd called softly before settling down on one end of the couch. Larry led Sal over and settled him down beside Todd before flopping down on the other end. 

Henry made his way in with two cups of coffee, one for himself and the other for Sal- with lots of creamer and sugar and milk, so much so that it tasted nothing like coffee and resembled the color of light crème. Sal took it with a mumble of ‘thanks’, sipping the warm liquid for a moment before cupping his hands around the mug, letting the heat sink into his bones. Henry looked rough- or, well, rougher than usual. Clearing his throat, he didn’t sit. He stood. 

Why didn’t he sit down?

“Son,” he began, and all confusion, all tugs of sleep, were wiped away. Henry never began with ‘son’ unless something had happened. “There’s… Been an accident.”

“Is Lisa alright?” He didn’t know why his first thought was Lisa. Maybe it was because she’d already been shot. But then, Larry wouldn’t have been there. “Travis? Ashley?” His mind raced through all of his friends. CJ? Had something happened to him? Azaria? Maple? Robert? Were they alright? Was Chug-…

Chug. Why wasn’t Chug here? 

“Chug was in an accident last night. He was on his way home from his aunt’s house.” No. No, no, no. “Maple was behind him, but she didn’t see what happened.” No. “His truck flipped a few times, Sal.” No. “He wasn’t breathing when Maple got there.” No. _No_. “The paramedics tried to revive him, but…” Henry trailed off, shaking his head.

Sal felt numb. He couldn’t feel the heat of the coffee mug between his hands. He couldn’t feel the carpet beneath his feet. He couldn’t feel the weight of the hoodie around him. He couldn’t feel. 

“They did everything they could, but they couldn’t get a pulse.”

Todd sniffled to his right. Larry sighed to his left.

Sal couldn’t feel the coffee mug in his hands.

“They believe he saw an animal and swerved, but he was going so fast that he started to hydroplane, and his truck just… Rolled.” Henry shook his head, his brows furrowing.

The coffee mug slipped from Sal’s hands.

It landed with a dull ‘thud’ on the carpet. He didn’t feel the hot liquid spilling across his feet. Larry jolted beside him. Henry cursed, set his cup aside, and ran into the kitchen. Todd grabbed the spilled coffee cup, hissing under his breath. Henry came back, kneeling down to wipe up the mess, to clean off Sal’s feet. They weren’t burnt, thankfully. 

A tear slipped down Sal’s cheek. 

“Sally Face?” Larry murmured, leaning forward to look at his face. “Sal?”

“He’s dead.” It wasn’t a question.

“… Yes.”

“Chug’s dead.”

“Yes.”

“… Where’s Maple?”

“With Ash and Travis and my mom downstairs.”

“Robert?”

“Helping Chug’s parents.”

A nod. 

“… Are you okay?” Todd asked softly, reaching out only for Sal to suddenly jerk to his feet, startling the three around him. Henry looked up at his son, face unreadable.

“… I need to pee.” Sal stated simply before moving as if he were a marionette upon a string. 

His heart was pounding in his chest. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t breathe properly. He closed the door to the bathroom and stood there for a moment, staring at the shower. The tiles had been cleaned recently; they were shining and white in the fluorescent light. The rug before the shower was a lovely shade of green. Henry liked green. That was his favorite color. Chug’s hair was green.

_Chug_.

Chug, trapped in a truck, dying. Chug, no longer drawing breath, dead. Chug. 

First, a sob broke free. A sudden, choking sound that Sal wasn’t sure he had made. Then, another- an inhaling, wheezing, broken noise. Tears fell from his eye. He gripped at the front of the hoodie, coughing, choking on his sobs. A yell slipped out, cracking, breaking, filling the little bathroom.

Outside, Larry leaned against the wall across from the bathroom. Todd slumped to the floor beside him. Henry was back in the kitchen, standing in front of the sink, staring out of the window. 

Larry crossed his arms over his chest, listening to the sound of Sal breaking down. Yelling, sobbing. His lips curved into a deep frown as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall. He wanted to open the door, to pull Sal into his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay- but it wasn’t going to be okay. Not with what Maple had told them. Not with the fact that Diane had been on the scene. That her scent had been everywhere. 

Tears slipped free, sliding down eternally tanned cheeks. He didn’t move to wipe them away.

Todd sniffled, wiping at his eyes. His bottom lip trembled as he listened to Sally break apart. Sal threw something in the bathroom, hitting the door, making him jump. Everyone deals with grief differently. Maple had screamed. Robert… Stonewalled. Larry yelled. Argued. Ashley didn’t cry, but she held Maple. Travis cried quietly. Neil held him and they both sobbed. 

Lisa had played the role of mother to them all in that moment. 

Chug’s parents… Todd leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

Sal screamed. Full on screamed. Raw, full of anger and sadness and confusion. Slowly, he sank to his knees, hands in his hair- not pulling, just holding. His chest hurt. The door opened behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. A warm body- no, two. Wait… fur?

Salem wound his way around Sal’s knee and into his lap, curling up there. Todd settled against his right side. Larry climbed around him and wound his arms around his waist from his left, resting his head on his shoulder. Salem made a croaking meow, as if he understood the emotional pain that was going on. And maybe he did. New, quiet tears trailed down his cheeks as he reached down, burying a hand in dark fur, feeling the warmth that seeped into him, the purring hat seemed to be almost as loud as a truck engine. Todd, to his right, holding Sal’s arm loosely. Larry, to his left, silent and steady. 

The Shadow, sitting in front of him, smaller than normal. Holding it’s knees to it’s chest. Chin resting on it’s knees. It’s eyes were sad. It didn’t make any movements aside from reaching out, touching Sal’s foot. 

Sal didn’t pull away.

* * *

January 14th, 1992  
8:48 a.m.

* * *

Ashley dragged her hands down her face, exhaustion pulling at her features. Travis sat beside her, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a nervous rhythm on his thigh. Robert followed behind them in his truck with Maple. 

None of them trusted her to drive, not right now.

Larry had called them, said that Todd and Sal were with Neil and Chug’s parents. Lisa had left to go help, and Henry had called off work to aid in any way he could. Larry said that he couldn’t be gone long, but he needed to talk to them. Said he’d told Sal he was gonna go grab breakfast for them all- that they needed to eat. Which was true- Mr. and Mrs. DeVeaux, Todd, Sal, and Henry would need to eat. 

But something had happened. With Sal.

“Whattya think it is?” Ashley broke the silence, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater. She didn’t really need it- but it was comforting. 

A shrug. “If I had t’ guess, he put somethin’ together that he wasn’t suppose to.” Travis sighed, pulling off into the McDonald’s parking lot. Larry stood beside his mama’s truck, smoking a cigarette. He looked like a wreck.

“You look like shit.” Travis called in greeting as he parked. Larry didn’t respond verbally, merely raising his hand and giving him a rather rude, one fingered salute. Travis let out a snort as he opened his door and jumped out, Ashley following suit. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” She asked, cutting right to the chase as Robert and Maple parked in front of Larry’s truck.

“Sal’s happenin’.” Larry replied, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it, snuffing it out. 

“Whattya mean?” Robert asked as he sat on the hood of the car. Maple didn’t get out, but her window was rolled down. 

Larry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Somethin’s happenin’. I don’t know what, but Sal-… Somethin’ changed. I noticed earlier when he was breaking down in the bathroom. I don’t think Todd did, but I did. He’s…” A shake of the head. “He’s seein’ somethin’, I think.”

“You mean like a mirage?” Ashley asked, dropping the accent. “Or a vision?”

“More like a vision, I think. I can’t see it.” 

“Unless,” Robert cut in, a single brow raising, “it doesn’t want you to see it.” 

“… Whattya mean.”

“A spirit. Or something else. Powerful enough that it can control who can see and who can’t see it.” Robert shrugged his shoulders. “We know somethin’s got attached to him. I think it was placed there- y’all done saw somethin’ in Addison Apartments already.”

A shudder swept across Maple. “A demon.” She spoke up. “Or a shadow man. I dunno. Malevolent in nature.”

“A poltergeist?” Travis wondered aloud.

“Maybe?”

“Could those be placed, though?” Ashley asked.

“I have no idea.” Robert slipped off the hood and shook his head. “Food.”

“Right…” Larry trailed off, watching as Ashley and Travis wandered away. “… When we go back-”

“I’ll go check out Sal’s apartment.” Robert cut in with a nod before glancing back at Maple. “… I’ll go make sure they’re getting breakfast food. You stay with Maple.” He slipped past Larry, patting him on the arm as he went. 

Larry shuffled over to the passenger side to lean against the door, glancing down at Maple. Her eyes were red rimmed; any makeup she’d had on, she’d cried off. Her hair was a fluffy mess, and she wore an oversized sweater- one of his own, he realized belatedly. Oh well. She needed the comfort. 

Neither one spoke, listening to the sound of cars driving past on the road. Maple reached out, grabbing Larry’s hand, twining their fingers and squeezing. Larry squeezed right back, clutching her smaller hand in his. He’d done his crying in private, before going to get Neil. Maple had stayed. He’d left while she was screaming, sobbing…

Ashley, Travis, and Robert were coming back with bags of food. 

“Somethin’ is attached to Sal, Larry.” Maple spoke suddenly, voice hoarse. Larry didn’t look at her. “I can feel it. I dunno what his momma did t’him as a baby. But it’s been wit’ him a long time.”

“I figured.” Larry sighed, giving her hand one last squeeze. “I’ll see y’all at the house.”

* * *

January 14th, 1992  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

“I’ll help you,” Maple reassured Clarice, Chug’s mother. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, her brown hair tied in a messy bun. “I know plannin’ this thing is gonna be hard. But I’m gonna be here every step of the way, alright?”

“Oh, Maple.” Clarice pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “You’s too sweet a girl.”

Maple clung to her for a moment before pulling away carefully, reaching up to cup Clarice’s tanned face. “It’ll hurt for a long while, but I’m gonna be here for you every step o’ the way, I promise.”

Robert stood back, watching. Lisa had taken Sal and Henry out to eat, to get them away from the apartments and the grief for a moment. Larry went with them, after slipping Robert a spare master key so he could get into Sal’s apartment. 

Maple gathered her things and headed to the door; Robert gave a nod to the grieving parents before slipping out behind Maple, pulling the door shut. She wasted no time in climbing the stairs to the second floor, where Neil and Todd waited outside of the apartment. Robert drew in a slow breath, brows furrowing.

“… Why are there wards set?” He asked, glancing towards Maple, who shrugged.

“I ain’t never set none here.”

“Do you think someone here did it?” Neil asked as he took the key from Robert, unlocking the door.

“I dunno. It doesn’t feel familiar to me. It feels… Jagged. Hastily done.” Shaking his head, he slipped past Neil and into the apartment, glancing around. “We have twenty minutes.”

“Better get busy.” Maple set her bag down and made her way into the kitchen. “Todd, sweetie, where’d you say you saw the blood?”

“Over here.” Todd shuffled his way to the kitchen, gesturing to the floor. “We thought it was Salem that knocked over a glass, but… Salem didn’t cut himself.”

“Salem, as in, the cat?” 

“Yup.”

“Huh…” Maple nodded before crouching down

“I’m gonna… Go.” Robert frowned, heading towards the hallway in which Sal’s bedroom resided. The closer he got, the worse he felt. He coughed, shaking his head. “You feel that?”

“Yeah, buddy.” Neil grimaced, pushing open Sal’s door-

Only to have it slam shut so hard it rattled upon its hinges. Robert and Neil both jerked back in surprise.

“What the fuck was that?” Maple hollered from the kitchen. 

“Sal’s bedroom don’t like us!” Robert replied as he reached out, trying the door knob. It didn’t budge, as if something were gripping it from the other side. “Open the fuck up!” He commanded, shoving his shoulder against the door. “You are not welcome here! I command you to open!” With a final shove, it gave way, swinging open. He managed to catch himself before falling over. 

Maple rushed back, nearly plowing into Neil. “What the fuck?”

Robert stood in the center of Sal’s room, turning slowly. “Show yourself!” He yelled, lip curling in a snarl. “Come on, coward!”

“ _Mockery is the purest form of flattery._ ” A voice spoke suddenly, making Robert flinch. 

“What is it?” Maple asked, confused.

“You don’t… Hear that?” Robert mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at Maple. 

“Hear what?”

Robert shook his head before moving towards the shelves along the walls. Pictures, albums, random things that Sal must have thought were cool… Nothing out of the ordinary. But something was pricking at the edge of his conscious. Something wasn’t right. That voice wasn’t right. Where? Where was it centered? 

Maple entered the room, brows raising as she glanced about. “Well, now. This don’t feel right.”

“See?”

“Like there’s a boundary.”

“Exactly!”

The siblings stood together, equally confused. Robert turned, facing the door, only to still in place. Beside the door stood a humanoid figure, cloaked in black from head to toe, it’s eyes too wide and too white, it’s mouth spread wide, showing too many teeth that were far too white, as if they were nothing more than bleached bone. 

“Who are you?” Robert asked, tilting his head.

It mimicked him.

“Can you speak?”

A shake of the head. 

“… Who’s voice did I hear?”

It raised a hand- the fingers far too long, too thin, too spidery for comfort, Robert couldn’t look at it for long- and pointed…

Behind them.

Maple spun first, and let out a startled sound. Robert turned, fists raised, ready to fight when he found himself suddenly confronted with a face he hadn’t seen before. A man stood taller than both of them, wider than Robert. 

“… How’d you get-” Before Robert could finish, the man’s hand was striking out, closing around his throat and squeezing so hard, black spots filled his vision. His feet weren’t touching the ground. Maple backed up, alarmed. “You know,” Robert croaked out, grinning. “If I needed t’breath, this would work.” The hand squeezed tighter. Ouch. He reached up to the arm and dug his nails in, watching as the man’s eyes widened in surprise. With quick movements, Robert jerked his hands down, bringing skin and blood along with it. The man let out a gurgling noise, dropping him.

“You shouldn’t be in this apartment.” 

“… Terrance?” Neil called, turning, grabbing Todd and pushing him behind himself. “What’re you… What?”

“Terrance is out of his hidey hole?” Robert taunted, a hand pressed to his throat.

“Charley, come.” Terrance spoke softly, arms behind his back. 

Robert took in the sight of the short man. Tanned skin, mousy brown hair. Big glasses over black eyes. Not just brown- no, black. Black as night, as coal. “Larry’s gonna kill ya.” He croaked, lips stretching into a grin as Terrance flinched. 

“I’m aware of this.”

“Better run.” Maple spoke softly, head tilting. “Before I beat him to it.” 

“You won’t.” Charley stepped in front of Terrance.

“A shot through the head will put anyone down.” Came a Texan drawl, along with the sound of a gun cocking. “Turn ‘round, slowly.” Travis ordered, standing tall and proud with a shotgun raised, finger on the trigger. Ashley stood beside him in a similar pose, though she held a double barrel shotgun. 

Slowly, Terrance turned, and Travis found himself hesitating at the sadness that stretched across his face. “My quarrel is not with you all. I’ll take my leave- no one need spill blood, now.”

Ashley flexed her finger. Travis lowered his gun after a moment, jerking his head. “Go on, now. Git.” Terrance slowly walked between the blond and brunette, the big man- Charley- lumbering after him like a brainless zombie. “If I see you ‘round here again, I won’t hesitate. I’ve killed our kind before. I ain’t ‘fraid t’do it again.”

No response came from Terrance as he left, descending the stairs. A moment passed where everyone was still, until Robert whistled from the bedroom.

“It ain’t a poltergeist. It’s more like a… Shadow. Demon. Thing.” He explained as he stepped out, shaking his head. “It’s attached t’Sal. There ain’t nothin’ in here that’s holdin’ it down except for Sal.”

“Nothin’?” Maple echoed, arms crossing over her chest. She sounded exhausted, and rightly so, Ashley noted. “Check the closet?”

“I did. Whatever symbol you saw drawn in there before is gone. No sign o’ it.”

Neil let out a breath. “Shi-et,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “We gotta git outta here.”

“Who’s gonna tell Larry?”

“I will.” Ashley replied, shotgun lowered. “Gonna go put these back in our trucks. Maple- go home. Go rest. You too, Robert. Y’all’ve had a long day. Neil, Todd- Go. Larry’s gonna stay with Sal tonight, I bet. But we’ll fill him in.”

“Thank you…” Maple crossed the living room, giving Ashley a pat on the shoulder and Travis a kiss on the cheek before grabbing her bag. 

Robert followed her quickly, though he paused between the pair. “I want y’all to tell Larry that if they need a safe place, our house is always open.”

“We will.” Travis reassured him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Be safe?”

“I will.” Robert leaned down, stealing a quick kiss before jogging out the door to catch up with Maple. 

“So…” Ashley trailed off, watching as Neil and Todd wandered closer. “What now?”

* * *

January 14th, 1992  
9:30 p.m.

* * *

Sal curled up in the mass of blankets piled atop Larry’s bed. Larry sat on a stool beside the bed, painting. Henry had asked if Sal wanted to stay with Larry earlier; Sal had made it clear he didn’t want to be alone. Lisa said she didn’t mind. Thus, how he ended up in Larry’s bed, curled up in a fuzzy blanket with more blankets piled on top of him.

He watched as Larry carefully drug a brush across the canvas, the sound of bristles against the canvas the only sound in the room. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t even want to feel. He just wanted to… Be. To lay and watch Larry paint. Nothing outside of this room mattered. 

Chug was dead.

He was dead.

Dead.

He’d already cried so much; his eye couldn’t produce any more tears. Instead, he watched Larry’s hands. Watched the tendons flex and twitch, watched the way his wrist moved so fluidly, watched as he drew the brush back from the canvas and waited before switching it out for a smaller brush. 

He was tired. He closed his eye. 

Larry glanced over, a small smile on his lips as Sal finally fell asleep. Ashley and Travis had said they’d be by later tonight. Sal had taken his medication; he’d be out for a few hours, at least. He needed the rest.

Hell, they all needed the rest.

His gaze turned back to the painting before him; a raven flying through a stormy sky. He still needed to add in the lightning strike, but that could wait. His head hurt. He needed to drink. Carefully, he rose from the stool, listening as his joints popped. Sal didn’t move. Quietly, he left the room, finding his mother sitting on the couch, reading.

“Sal’s asleep.” He spoke softly as he closed the bedroom door.

“Good.” She yawned, closing her book. “I worry about him.”

“So do I.” Soft footsteps brought him to the refrigerator. He reached in, grabbed a blood bag, and closed it without ceremony. He didn’t even bother getting a glass down, instead biting directly into the plastic and gulping down the thick, chilled liquid. 

“Are you an animal?” Lisa called teasingly, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare spill on that floor. I just mopped.”

Larry pulled the blood bag away, licking his lips. “Can’t spill if it’s empty!” He replied, holding up the drained blood bag. Lisa snorted, rolling her eyes as her tossed the drained blood bag into the bag beneath the sink. 

The sound of knocking drew his attention. He watched as his mother rose form her seat and drifted to the door, opening it. “It’s Ash and Travis.” She called to him.

“Right. Comin’.” He wiped at his mouth, trying to make sure he didn’t have any leftovers remaining on his lips, before he made his way to the door. “Keep an ear on Sal?”

“Will do.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaving them.

“Outside. Not in here.” Larry explained quickly, slipping past the pair. 

Ashley leaned back against the side of Addison Apartments, Travis joining her on her right while Larry settled back on her left. “So, Terrance.”

“Terrance.” Larry echoed, staring at the tall pine trees across from them. The swamp lay beyond. He should lock his bedroom door so Sal couldn’t get out without waking him up. They didn’t need a repeat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“He knows.” Travis shook his head. “It was almost like he… Expected that. Like he knew this was gonna happen.”

“Who knows what he knows.” Larry sighed, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky. Due to all the city lights, the stars couldn’t be seen. “I’ll deal with him soon enough. But first- Sal. What’d Robert find?”

“Somethin’s attached t’him. Robert don’t know what, but it ain’t no poltergeist.” Ashley shrugged her shoulders, lips pursing. “Might be a demon. Might just be a poor spirit. Dunno. But Robert and Maple both checked his room over- ain’t nothin’ there that’s keepin’ it there. But Robert did see it.”

“What’s it look like?” 

“All black. Black as the sky above us. Too-human eyes. Too many teeth.”

“So, a shadow?”

She nodded. Larry hummed. 

“Well…” He trailed off, closing his eyes. “Chug’s parents are already making funeral arrangements. Maple’s goin’ with them to go pick out a casket tomorrow.”

“Do they know what song they wanna use?” Travis asked, head tilting to the side as he leaned against Ashley’s shoulder.

Ashley nodded. “Down to the Valley to Pray.”

“Well, that’s gonna be sad.”

The trio let out soft laughs before falling silent. “Diane was there.” Ashley murmured, arms crossing over her chest.

“I know.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Larry pushed himself away from the wall, sighing. “Y’all go home. Get rest. I’m gonna go make sure Sal sleeps.”

Travis caught Larry’s hand, making the brunette pause. “You get some rest, too. Stop shouldering the weight of the world, Atlas.”

Larry didn’t respond, but he nodded. Travis dropped his hand, and the pair watched as Larry wandered back inside. 

“Wanna take watch?”

“Yep. I’ll take first watch.” 

“Gotcha.”

* * *

January 15th, 1992  
??? a.m.

* * *

It was early. Larry didn’t have a clock in his room. Sal shifted, sitting up in bed. Larry was sound asleep beside him, curled up with a large pillow, snoring softly. Sal couldn’t help but smile as he took in the sight; golden brown skin, messy, long brown hair, the tattoos… If he had any talent for the arts, he’d draw this very image. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t have a camera. His memory would have to suffice. 

Movement drew his attention. At first, he thought it was Salem. But no- too tall for Salem. His smile curled into a frown as the shadow pulled itself from the wall. Its head tilted this way then that, as if studying the scene before it. And it might have been, truthfully. He didn’t speak to it. It circled the room slowly, it’s moves jagged and harsh. Sal pulled his knees to his chest.

Larry snored.

The shadow approached the bed, standing over Larry. It seemed… Confused. Tilting its head this way then that, as if it couldn’t understand what it was seeing. It pointed to Larry, then to Sal. Sal nodded. Its eyes widened before narrowing in a way that made Sal think it was smiling. It made Sal smile. 

Sal’s smile dropped as it pointed again, harder, at Larry. Then at its own mouth. At Larry’s. What did that mean? He, carefully, reached down, brushing Larry’s hair back from his face. He didn’t budge. He snored again. Sal pushed his lip up.

An elongated incisor greeted him.

Sal pulled his hand back carefully, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked up towards the shadow, who nodded. He shook his head. It pointed towards the door. Sal listened as the door unlocked- as the shadow unlocked the door. He swallowed, but slid from the bed, grabbing his pants and pulling them on. 

The shadow faded from view as Sal slipped out of the bedroom, only for it to reappear at the front door. It shook its head. Sal couldn’t leave? It pointed to the fridge. Oh. Well, he was kind of thirsty. Bare feet padded closer to the fridge, only to hesitate. The shadow stood beside the fridge, watching. Sal watched as its eyes widened, and it blinked out of view as Larry padded in.

“Sal?” Larry asked, voice muffled by sleep. “Wha’s up?”

“Thirsty.” Sal replied. 

“There’s orange juice on the bottom shelf.” Larry yawned and leaned against the island, watching as Sal opened the door. A lunch box sat on the middle shelf. What was in there? He didn’t grab it, but he did grab the orange juice. He turned, glancing at Larry, who watched him with half lidded eyes. 

Why were Larry’s teeth so damn sharp?

He grabbed a cup and poured himself a glass of orange juice before putting the jug back into the fridge. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Naw, I’ll wait.” Larry flashed a lazy grin- without pointed incisors. Oh. 

… What?

Sal gulped down the orange juice quickly before putting his cup in the sink. Larry reached out for him, and he let him pull him into his arms, holding him gently as they made their way back to the bed. The shadow was nowhere to be seen as they crawled back into bed.

Larry curled around him. Sal faced the wall.

Sal watched as the shadows shifted. His shadow friend reappeared, pointed at Larry, and then- slowly- drug it’s finger across it’s throat.

Sal swallowed harshly, and squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

January 15th, 1992  
10:30 a.m.

* * *

Maple ran a hand through her hair as she waited for Chug’s parents to finish inside. The funeral home was lavish, welcoming in a morbid sense. Robert hadn’t come with her; this was for her and Chug’s parents. She was mainly here to offer them support, anyways. They’d chosen a beautiful mahogany casket with silver trimming. She could see the couple standing, talking with the funeral director.

“They’re thinkin’ of movin’.” Larry suddenly spoke, causing her to spin around. “Chug’s parents.”

“How d’you know?”

“Heard ‘em talkin’ this mornin’.”

Maple nodded, lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “Can’t say I don’t blame ‘em.” She crossed her arms over her chest, brows furrowing. “I’m worried about Sal.”

“That’s why I’m here. Somethin’ happened last night.” Larry sighed as he leaned against the side of Maple’s car.

Honey brown hues glanced up and over at the brunette. “Do tell.”

“Woke up to him actin’ spooked. Maybe he was, but… I dunno. Somethin’s off with him.” He straightened up as Chug’s parents began walking over. 

“Well, we know something’s attached to him. Maybe that’s all?”

“No.” Larry shook his head, brows furrowing. “No, it’s more. He… Normally, when we sleep together, he does this thing where he curls up against me. Last night, it was like someone else was in my bed.”

“Really?” Maple pursed her lips. “I’ll swing by later to check in. I… I don’t really…” She trailed off, wringing her hands. Larry reached over and pulled her into a quick hug. 

“I understand.”

* * *

January 15th, 1992  
4:50 p.m.

* * *

Henry had left to get groceries. Sal had waited until he was gone before slipping on a black hoodie and a pair of beat up Vans before leaving the apartment. He’d have roughly thirty minutes. Larry wasn’t home- he’d checked with Lisa. Todd was with Neil. He was alone- exactly what he needed. 

He pulled the hood up and over his head before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him. He took the stairs two at a time; a quick sweep of the courtyard let him know that no one was out and about. Good. He didn’t bother walking, instead breaking into a sprint, dashing past Terrance’s office and to the left, towards the swamp.

The Shadow- it didn’t tell him it’s name, but it could communicate- told him to go to the swamp. To find the Woman; she would tell him everything he needed to know. Even if the last time he’d been in a swamp, he’d apparently almost drowned. 

… That still didn’t make sense to him, but then again, a lot of things weren’t making sense. Like the blood bags he’d spotted in the trash in Larry’s house. Or the pointed teeth. Vampire? But vampires didn’t exist, did they? He shook his head before clambering over the chain-link fence, landing on the other side into squishy mud. He made a face at the squelch that sounded- how gross. A glance over his shoulder towards the apartments was given before he headed into the swamp, gaze trained on the ground, ears open. 

“You shouldn’t be out here, little one.” A thickly accented voice spoke to him. He spun around, eyes widening at the sight of an older woman standing behind him. It was like a fog had crept up without him realizing, for he could not see the apartments behind her any longer. Or had he gone farther than he intended?

“I was told to come out here- to find you. To talk with you.” Sal replied, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I was told you could… Explain things to me.”

“So that little demon finally did his job, eh?” She cackled. “Come, sit with me.” She gestured to the side, towards a- hut? When had that gotten there?

“I need to get back soon.” He shifted his weight, biting the inside of his lip. “Soon.”

“And you will, little one. I give you my word.” She was already walking past him, skirts dragging on the ground. He hesitated for a moment before following after her. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? Right. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done something stupid like this before. 

The hut was just that- a hut. Small, one room, a wood burning stove. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen, drying. A few chairs were situated around the kitchen table. He hesitated for a moment before taking one. The woman settled down across from him with a soft sigh. 

“This is the moment of just letting go.” She said softly, and before Sal’s eyes, her form changed. She became young, the wrinkles in her skin smoothing out, giving way to ivory smoothness, to dark hair that held a near purple sheen to it, her eyes dark, filled with an age-old light. “If you had life eternal- would you let go?” She asked, head tilting to the side. 

“Pardon?” Sal managed to croak out, brows furrowing. He found himself rooted to the spot as she reached out, her hand coming to grasp at his mask. It fell away without the buckles being touched, as if someone had come up behind him and cut them. A soft noise escaped him as she pulled it away from his face, revealing the carnage beneath. The scars from canine teeth biting and ripping, from claw marks, the empty eye socket. She set his mask on the table gently and reached up, touching his chin gently.

A gasp escaped him as he flinched back from her touch, finally able to move once more. Her fingers were like ice. Like… Larry’s.

Ashley’s.

Travis’s.

Maple’s.

“Salvador Fisher,” she mused softly, pulling her hand back slowly as her head tilted. “I have awaited your arrival for many long years.”

“How do you know my name?” He asked, voice shaking.

“Oh, I know many things about you. Your natural hair color is ash blonde but you dye it, you were attacked by a dog when you were young. You should have been killed, you realize this. Something kept that mutt from killing you.”

A chill crept along his spine as she spoke. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think you still live?” She asked, leaning back in her chair. “Why do you think you still draw breath despite having Death’s touch upon you?”

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand.” He shook his head slowly, brow furrowing. 

“Salvador, who is your mother?” She leaned forward, dark strands of hair sliding over her shoulders. “What is her name?”

“Diane. Diane Fisher.”

“Who is her brother?”

“… Red?”

A moment passed. The woman leaned back in her seat slowly, as if that had somehow answered all of his questions. But it didn’t. He was still left in the dark. “I don’t understand. What does my mom have to do with this?”

“Because your mother is not who you believe her to be. You do not know of what lies around you, lurking within the shadows.” 

His gaze drifted around the hut, landing on a familiar form standing in the corner. Shadow. “… Aside from… Shadow figures? And ghosts? Spirits… What else?”

“You know.” 

“You just said I don’t.”

“You do.”

“… Vampires aren’t real.” He shook his head, gaze leaving the shadow to turn back to the woman. “They aren’t real.”

“Aren’t they?” She replied, crossing one leg over the other. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the doctors have trouble finding your pulse? Why you prefer to eat your meats just barely cooked, rare enough that they still ooze blood at times? Why your father- a devout Catholic- abandoned his faith?”

His stomach curled. He felt as if he were going to be sick. “My dad’s not a… I’m not…?”

“No, not you. Not quite. You are unique- and your story will not be told here, not yet. But you are in danger, Salvador. What once was dead may never die. You walk with an enemy that will turn on you soon, and all will be revealed.” She coughed, and her skin began to droop. Her hair dulled in tone until it became a soft lavender hue. “You must leave, I am afraid. I’ve told you all that I can.”

“I- wait. Can I ask one more question?” He asked as she rose to her feet. He mimicked her, grabbing his mask and sliding it on, securing the buckles. 

“One.”

“… Is my mother alive?”

She turned to him, then, once more a crone, no longer a maiden. She did not reply verbally, instead leveling him with a heavy stare. And then, a single, slow nod. Sal swallowed roughly, turning his head to the side. A sudden wave of vertigo hit him, and he stumbled out of the door. Shaking his head, he turned, ready to ask the woman for her name- only to find himself at the chain-link fence once more, the hut completely disappeared. 

She was gone. 

Head swimming, he climbed over the fence and made his way back towards the apartments. CJ and Azaria were in the parking lot, no doubt coming home from college classes. He didn’t look at them as CJ called out to him. He just kept walking, treading up the stairs, unlocked his door, and stepped into the apartment. His gaze fell upon the clock on the wall.

4:55 p.m.

… That couldn’t be right. He’d been gone for at least twenty minutes, right? 

Jaw clenching, he toed off his muddy shoes and walked towards his father’s room, opening the door and pausing. Photo album. Mom. It took him a moment to find it, but he did, pulling out the mahogany toned photo album. He hesitated before opening it, studying the first picture. Dad, mom, and Uncle Red on mom and dad’s wedding day. 

… They weren’t married in a church.

“It is true.” The voice was soft, almost nervous. Sal jolted, the photo album sliding to the floor as he looked around, spotting the Shadow, sitting on the floor across from him.

“You can speak now?”

“I’ve always been able to. I did not have the strength to. I do now.”

“… Can anyone else hear you?” He questioned quietly.

A shake of the head was his answer. No. 

“That woman… She’s your master?”

“She is my mother.”

Mother. Okay. “What do you mean, it’s true?”

“What you are thinking.”

“I’m thinking a lot of things right now.”

“About the teeth. The blood. The cold skin.”

“Are you telling me that my boyfriend is a fucking vampire?”

“I am telling you that you are surrounded by creatures of the night. And others.” 

Sal drew in a slow breath. “And how do I know that you aren’t just… A figure of my imagination? That this isn’t just some huge… Dissociative episode?” 

It was suddenly right in front of him, leaning into his personal space. It reached out, gripping Sal’s wrist. “You are the one they want. Not your friends. But them. They want you. And they will get you. And you will die. And you will Rise.” It hissed, face too close to Sal’s.

He began to hyperventilate, heart beating too fast. He pulled his wrist free and struggled to his feet. The Shadow watched him, not moving from its spot. “I’m not… This is just a dream, right?” A rather hysterical laugh escaped him. “A dream. A fucked up dream, right? Right.”

“Wrong.” The Shadow jolted, one moment there, the next moment gone. Sal spun around, voice catching in his throat at the sight of the man standing in his father’s room. His hair was long, dark. His eyes were such a rich shade of brown, they almost looked red. He had dark stubble across his jaw. Truthfully, he was handsome, and very tall.

“How did you get inside my house?” Sal asked, backing towards the door.

“Who says we’re in your house? This could be a dream, Salvador.” The man replied, head tilting to the side. 

“Get out of my house, or I’ll call the police.” Sal’s hands were shaking. “I’ll scream.”

“Do not do that.” The man sighed, shaking his head. “We would not want your father getting hurt, would we?”

Dad. “… What do you want?”

“You.” 

“Me?”

“You, yes.” He began to stalk forward, only to freeze in place. His lip curled upwards in a snarl, and there- sharpened incisors came to view. Sal’s blood froze in his veins. “Damn that stupid girl.” His gaze jerked from Sal, to the hallway, then back to Sal. His voice dropped into a low growl that had Sal’s knees growing weak, and not in the good way. “I will be back for you, and you will come willingly, lest your father and friends suffer the same consequence that green haired boy did.”

Chug.

“What are you-” Sal’s voice cut off as the front door opened and Henry’s voice reached him. He turned his head, looking towards the kitchen, before looking back.

The bedroom was empty.

“… Coming, dad!” He called, backing out of the room slowly. 

Vampires were real. Spirits were real. Ghosts and demons were real. There was a … Bog witch? And somehow, his mother was tied to it all. And so was he. And Larry-

Larry. Ashley. Travis, Maple, Robert. 

He felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down with a grimace. 

“Hey, sport! I saw Chug’s parents… His funeral’s gonna be Sunday.”

“That’s… Soon.” Sal replied as he began to help Henry unload groceries, despite the shaking in his hands. Did dad know? No doubt he did- he’d been Catholic. For as long as Sal could remember, they’d never stepped foot in a church. He glanced over his shoulder- Henry looked exhausted. 

He wouldn’t ask. Not right now. Tomorrow, maybe over dinner. Maybe. 

“It’s standard. We’re invited- we… Should pick up something for them. Flowers, maybe?” Henry pondered aloud before Sal shook his head.

“Not flowers. No one likes funeral flowers. Food. We could cook them something?”

“You got a point. Maybe a pie?... Or something they could warm up. Soup? Spaghetti Bolognese?”

“Yeah.” Sal’s gaze drifted to the front door. “Spaghetti Bolognese would be good.”

The Shadow stood in front of the door, arms crossed over it’s chest, staring him down. It shifted it’s stance- guarding the door. Slowly, it nodded. 

Sal gave a small nod back.


	24. Down to the River to Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gospel music.  
> Funeral flowers & mothballs.  
> Pallbearers.   
> A confrontation.  
> Bad Dog.  
> Do Not Drink The Gulf Water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 12 pages of pain I'm so sorry. This took me a while to get out because I hated it. I hate this chapter. I love what I wrote, but I hate writing about funerals. They make me extremely uncomfortable & it brings back memories that I'd rather not think about. So I had to write this in small bursts. But surprise, the plot is thickening and progressing.   
> As always, thank y'all so much for reading this and leaving kudos! It means so much.  
> Y'all can find me on tumblr screaming about SF and this fic (bc I post snippets of chapters there!) on https://fakexface.tumblr.com  
> If anyone happens to create anything that relates to this fic, whether that be a fic or poetry or a drawing or a cosplay, let me know! Send me a link so I can see, because I absolutely love that sort of thing!  
> Okay, without further ado, the chapter.

_"O sinners, let's go down, let's go down, come on down._   
_O sinners, let's go down, down in the river to pray."_

* * *

January 17th, 1992  
9:00 a.m.

* * *

There was no wake; Chug’s parents didn’t want to have to deal with the constant stream of ‘I’m so sorry’ or ‘He was so young’. Sal couldn’t blame them. He remembered the wake for his mother’s funeral, how everyone gathered at their house and brought food and stood around and cried. He’d been the youngest person there; all of his cousins at the time were either older or not born yet. He’d also been ostracized by them, then; it was the only time he was allowed out of the hospital, so his head had still been wrapped up in gauze and bandages. He looked more like a mummy than a human being. 

Standing in front of the mirror hanging on the back of his door, he adjusted the funeral suit. He and Henry had gone out yesterday to the mall where the Macy’s was located and bought these. Sal had been asked to be a pallbearer, along with Larry, Todd, Neil, Robert, one of Chug’s cousins, and Chug’s father, Arnell. The white gloves sat on his desk, stark and crisp. A sigh escaped him as he adjusted the black tie, brows furrowing.

Shadow stood beside him, watching curiously. “Tradition?” It asked, head tilting to the side.

“Yes.” Sal replied, stepping back to study his reflection. The suit fit him well enough; the pants were a touch too long, but with the black dress shoes, no one would notice. He’d tied the top layer of his hair back, pulling the strands away from his face, leaving the rest to hang around his shoulders. 

“Why?” Shadow asked again, following after Sal as he tried to find a pair of matching socks.

A shrug. “It just is.” He kept his voice soft, low; Henry wouldn’t be able to hear him over the music spilling from the radio, but he didn’t want to risk it. Today was stressful enough; no one wanted to worry about Sal.

Worry.

Larry.

His movements paused as he reached out to grab his mask. Larry- with his elongated teeth. His cold skin. The blood bags. The lady in the swamp, who knew too much about Sal for it to just be coincidence. No one knew his natural hair color here. 

His mother, who was still alive somehow. He had seen her during New Years. She had been across from them. 

… How was she alive? They buried her. It had been a closed casket, though. 

A closed casket. 

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, he snatched the prosthetic from the bed and hastily shoved it on. He’d put in the prosthetic eye, too, for today. The natural looking one. It was only proper, after all. 

“You are worried.” Shadow spoke, now sitting cross-legged on the bed. It’s eyes were still too wide, too human and unblinking, and it still had too many teeth- but it didn’t make Sal nervous, anymore. 

Sal nodded wordlessly as he settled down on the edge of the bed, struggling to pull his shoes on.

“Death is natural.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m about to witness one of my best friends be put into a grave.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so sharp, but it just… Happened.

Shadow didn’t react. That was good.

“… Will you be okay?” Shadow asked after a moment, leaning forward to look at Sal’s face- or, well, the prosthetic face. Maybe it could see past the prosthetic. 

“… I don’t know.” He admitted softly, shaking his head. “This is just… Surreal. What I learned. Chug. Larry… Fuck. I haven’t spoken to Larry in days.”

“He will be there?”

“Yes.”

“He is dangerous to you, Salvador Fisher. He will bring danger.”

Chill bumps rose on Sal’s arms at the Shadow’s words. “I know.”

“… That man.”

“The one that was in dad’s room?”

“Yes. He is bad. No good. Not natural. Not like Larry. Bad bad bad.”

“I figured as much.” A sigh before he heaved himself to his feet, turning to face the Shadow. “How do I look?”

“Human.”

“… I guess that’s a good thing.” Shaking his head, he glanced at his alarm clock. The funeral would be soon. They needed to leave. “… Be good.”

“I am always good.” Shadow nodded, as if agreeing with itself. Sal stared a moment longer before leaving his room, finding his father in the kitchen, standing as if in a trance.

Yeah, Sal understood that. 

“Ready?” He asked, watching as Henry jolted. 

“Is anyone ever ready for a funeral?” Henry replied, brows furrowing as he looked Sal over. “You look grown up.”

“I’m still short.”

“… True.”

* * *

January 17th, 1992  
9:30 a.m.

* * *

Larry dragged a hand through his hair as he stood in the parking lot of the funeral home. Lisa had gone on inside, wanting to be with Chug’s parents. Todd was somewhere in there with Neil, too; Chug’s family was trickling inside. The hearse sat beside the building, idling. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he stared at the black vehicle as if it were somehow the reason Chug was laying in a casket. 

The sound of a truck engine had his gaze shifting. Ashley and Maple arrived together, followed by Travis and Robert. Maple had dressed in a mourning gown- or, well, a modern version of one. A solid black gown with a black lace shawl draped over her shoulders. The gown, he noticed as she slipped out of the truck, fell to hover just above the black boots she wore. It was long sleeved, and black velvet gloves covered her hands. All she was missing was a black veil, he noted with grim humor.

Ashley had dressed similarly, though not as elaborately- a black, long sleeved dress that fell to her knees, and kitten heels. Neither one wore any eye makeup. Larry couldn’t blame them. Travis and Robert wore simple black suits, much like himself, though they all sported a neon green tie- the same shade of Chug’s hair, his favorite color. 

“Where’s Sal?” Travis asked as he wound his arm around Robert’s waist, keeping him close.

Larry shook his head. “Not here yet. He… I haven’t seen him since Thursday.”

“He’s mourning.” Maple spoke, her voice eerily flat, though her honey brown eyes shown with an anger Larry hadn’t seen since the night Red had fled their home. “We all mourn in our own ways.”

“Let’s get you inside…” Ashley murmured, leading Maple by the arm into the funeral home. Robert and Travis hung back, watching the pair make their way inside. 

Larry kicked the tire of his momma’s truck lightly, buying time. “This ain’t right,” he muttered with a deep scowl, shaking his head. “Ain’t right at all.”

“I know.” Travis reached out, placing a gentle hand on Larry’s elbow. “Let’s git on inside, Larry. Sal’ll show up with Henry. We need t’be there for Michael and Amy-Lee.” He was right, they needed to get inside.

Larry kicked the tire one more time before leading them in, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Travis sighed, tucked into Robert’s side, and followed after.

The funeral home smelled like one- musty, old, like death and mothballs and a basement. Cold, colder than outside, somehow, despite the rumbling of the heat. Flowers, god, there were so many flowers, Larry noted with disgust. No one likes funeral flowers. Roses, lilies, bouquets. All different colors, all tied with neon green ribbons. The pews- was that what they were called? He wasn’t sure, but they looked like church pews- were filled all down the right side with distant relatives. Chug’s parents and closer relatives were seated up in the private family section. Maple had been brought up to sit with them, right beside Amy-Lee. 

Lisa had chosen a spot for them in the third row, left side. Travis and Robert took to the outside end; he settled in beside his momma on the inside end. Sal could sit beside him, and then Henry, and Todd and Neil. Pallbearers, all together. Aside from Michael and Chug’s cousin, that is. 

He tapped a nervous rhythm on his thigh as more people filtered in. The funeral started at ten. Sal would be here. He had to. His gaze swept across the room; there were bibles in the backs of the pews in front of him. Chug’s parents weren’t that religious, which was nice. He couldn’t handle listening to the bible. Hell, he hadn’t touched one since…

Well. He hadn’t touched one in a long time.

Todd and Neil arrived, dressed in near identical suits to his own. They settled down beside Robert and Travis, giving Larry a small smile. Todd leaned over, and Larry scooted down.

“Sal’s here, he’s outside with Henry. He’s really anxious, Larry. Be easy on him.” He whispered before pulling away, brows furrowing.

Be easy? It was a funeral! They were all anxious- oh.

Oh, _shit_.

Sal’s mom. Or- whoever it was they buried. His mom, for all intents and purposes. Of course he’d be nervous about coming to a funeral home. Wow. Way to go, Larry. Boyfriend of the fuckin’ year.

Silently, Ashley settled down beside Todd. She didn’t speak.

He looked over his shoulder, catching the moment Sal and Henry walked in. Henry caught sight of him, thankfully, and directed Sal to slip past Lisa and Larry and plop down beside Larry.

“Hey.” Sal mumbled, fiddling with his sleeves. 

“Hey.” Larry replied softly, leaning his shoulder against Sal’s.

Sal didn’t lean back. He was tense. That was understandable. It was a funeral. 

Silence settled over the room. There was a man- a pastor?- that took to the stand. He thanked them all for coming. He talked about death, how it was cruel for Chug to be taken so soon. Someone sobbed- Maple, Larry realized as he looked over. Chug’s mother was crying, too, into a handkerchief.

Sal sniffled to his right. Lisa sighed to his left. He placed a hand on both of their knees.

Chug’s father took to the stand, and began giving a eulogy. Talking about how Chug had planned on going to LSU to become a chef- who knew? Larry certainly didn’t-, how he had loved school and how he’d had so many loving friends. How much it hurt to be burying his son- “It’s supposed to be the other way around, ain’t it?”- and how much light Chug brought to their lives. 

He left, and settled back down. That’s when the choir appeared- Larry hadn’t noticed them, settled down in the far right. “As I went down in the river to pray, studyin’ about that good old way, and who should wear the robe and crown- good lord, show me the way…” They sang, voices soft and mournful. 

Sal stiffened even more beside him. Larry did, too; Down to the River to Pray? Really? 

And yet, tears began to spill over his cheeks. Todd was crying; he could see from his place. So was Travis, face buried in Robert’s shoulder. Sal had to be crying, too- but he couldn’t see his face. His eye. 

The song felt as if it dragged on for ages, but really, it couldn’t have been longer than three minutes. And then- God, no. The final goodbyes. He watched as Amy-Lee made her way up shakily with Michael, the pair crying softly. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Amy-Lee touching her son’s cold cheek.

They could all hear the gut-wrenching sob that she released as she pulled away, and began whispering “my boy, my darlin’ boy, my boy,” to herself. 

Maple walked up slowly next. She was shaking- he could see it from here. And sobbing. They all watched silently as she said her goodbyes, as she clutched the edges of the casket. A wail left her as she crumpled, sobbing. Before any of them could react, Neil was there, pulling her up and holding her close as she wailed- not just sobbed, no, she wailed like a banshee crying out in the night. Neil took her out of the funeral hall.

Larry’s heart cracked. 

Slowly, family made their way up, saying final goodbyes before taking their seat once more. And then- it was their side’s turn. He watched with baited breath as one by one, they rose and lined up. And then, Robert was rising with Travis, then Todd, Ashley, Henry, Sal. He rose on numb feet, following after Sal. He couldn’t help it- he reached out, touching Sal’s shoulder gently.

Sal flinched away from his touch.

Larry lowered his hand.

Right. Mourning. Right?

Step by step, they made their way up. Henry went. Sal stepped up. He was shaking as he looked down at Chug. Larry stepped up beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Sal leaned into him, finally. He was sobbing- hard. Larry was, too. 

“You didn’t deserve this, Chug.” Larry whispered.

“He was too young.” Sal shook his head, and together, they made their way down, back to the pew. Sal settled back down in his seat- and slipped out of Larry’s hold. Larry frowned, looking towards the shorter. Did he just… Not wanna be touched right now? He could understand that- he didn’t ever wanna be touched when he was mad or upset.

Maybe Sal was the same way?

The funeral continued on around them until the priest returned. “There’s a passage that I like,” he spoke, voice spilling over the gathered mourners. “It’s from John 14, lines one through three.” He cleared his throat; Larry could see sweat beading upon his brow. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms, if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to e with me that you also may be where I am.” 

Beside him, Sal let out a soft snort. Henry nudged his son and shook his head.

“That concludes this service. If the pallbearers would please come forth, we will be leaving for the cemetery shortly.” That was their clue. They rose near silently and stepped forward, lining up; Sal and Todd would follow after the casket, in front of the family. Larry and Robert would be at the tail end, then Travis and Neil, and at the front, Michael and Chug’s cousin, Anthony. 

Larry shuffled his feet, brows furrowing. His mother would drive their truck out to the family cemetery where Chug would be buried. The service there would be much shorter and smaller, meant for close family only- and friends, of course. He couldn’t look at the casket as the lid was closed.

Sal stood off to the side with Todd. He wouldn’t look at Larry. Something was wrong- he needed to talk to him, to see what was going on. But not now; the timing was bad. But he needed to be there for his boyfriend, right? Right. He needed to be there for Sal. Funerals were rough, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom how Sal was feeling.

His attention turned back to the casket as they took their places. He almost stumbled, but he managed to brush it off. On the count of three, they lifted the casket; he could hear Robert sniffle. Someone was sobbing again. Slowly, they moved; left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. The casket was heavy, but no one made any noise of complaint. 

Sal and Todd followed after quietly, and then those left in the pews. The family would have left through a side door to get to their cars and get in line for the funeral procession. Slowly, they made their way out of the funeral home and into the overcast light of the day. He could hear the choir singing again. 

_“As I went down to the river to pray, studyin’ about that good ol’ way…”_

Gospel music always did make his skin crawl.

Behind them, Sal walked with Todd, though his mind was racing. His hands shook, much to his annoyance. The smell of the funeral home had been awful- too floral, hiding the scent of death. Mothballs. Old pews that had seen far better days. The sound of sniffles and sobs- seeing Maple break down at the casket had been enough to have tears spill down his cheek. 

And Larry… Larry, who was trying- he really was. But Sal wasn’t budging. He couldn’t, not after what he’d found out. He couldn’t bring himself to look Larry in the eye, had shied away from his touch one too many times. No doubt Larry was getting annoyed, right?

But he couldn’t help it. 

Not just from what he’d learned, but from being in a funeral home. Listening to the choir sing, listening to the muffled sobs and whispers, the lighting, the flowers. It was all too much and he simply shut down. Even now, he found himself not truly here- he was walking, yes. He was going through the movements, yes. But was he here? No.

No, he was in a different funeral home, listening to a different preacher, wearing bandages over his face.

“-ly? Sal, come on.” Henry murmured, directing Sal towards their car. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Sal stated simply, tone flat as he climbed into the car, shutting the door. Henry hesitated for a moment, looking for all the world ready to break down and cry himself, before he jogged around to the front of the car and climbed in.

No words were spoken over the next half hour as they drove through the streets of New Orleans and out of the city. The funeral procession was long; Ashley’s truck was ahead of them. Maple was in there with Ashley; Sal could see her silver hair. The radio played softly- Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac. 

His father’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. No doubt he was reliving her funeral, too. 

His gaze tracked to the trees that drifted past as they drove, turning down a dirt road. The cemetery was family owned, apparently. Of course Chug would be buried there. He let his eye close for the next few minutes; a headache was starting to form behind his eyes. Stress, from crying, lack of sleep. All of the above combined into one. 

“We’re here, kiddo.” Henry murmured, reaching over before hesitating and dropping his hand. Sal hummed, blinked twice- hard- and climbed out of the car. The ground was damp, but not squishy. Being back from the coast meant they were not longer below sea level. The bodies could be buried in the ground here. 

He jogged over to where Todd stood, watching as the pallbearers pulled the casket out of the hearse and carried it over, setting it on the ground beside the freshly dug hole. Maple drifted past them, her gaze distant. Ashley was clinging to her arm- no, Maple was clinging to Ashley’s arm? Sal couldn’t tell; maybe they were holding each other up.

Todd’s hand brushed his elbow, and together, they joined the much smaller group, taking a stand at the back of the group. Slowly, their friends filled in around them; a glance over the shoulder showed Lisa and Henry standing off to the side, watching with grim faces. He didn’t listen to the words that were spoken; time moved strangely in cemeteries, he’d noticed. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, yet the next moment, he was being handed a white carnation to throw into the grave.

When had they even lowered it?

Maple and Chug’s mother were clinging to one another, sobbing. Sal shifted his stance before slipping up with Todd a step behind. Standing on the edge of the grave, he felt himself… Fall. Fall- to his knees. Todd was kneeling beside him, and then another hand was on his back- Larry’s. He couldn’t push either one away as he sobbed, finally breaking. The floodgates opened, and he couldn’t stop. Not even as Larry lifted him in his arms and carried him back to the car. 

He didn’t stop as Henry started the car.

He didn’t stop as they entered their apartment.

He fell asleep crying, with Shadow sitting in front of him, making worried noises while Salem curled up on top of his head and purred loud and strong.

* * *

January 17th, 1992  
5:00 p.m.

* * *

Larry sat on the edge of the crate, staring out at the water of the Gulf. Todd had gone to pick up Sal; they had all agreed that something needed to be talked about. What it was, Larry didn’t know. But Maple was here, and Robert sat beside her. Neil hovered at the edge of the dock, watching the water lap at the wooden poles. Ashely sat on the crate beside him, her knees pulled to her chest as she stared at the horizon as the sun set.

The sound of footsteps drawing near had Larry’s head turning. Todd was there, and so was Sal. Sal had changed into a hoodie at least three times too big for him, and a pair of torn red jeans. His hair was down, falling around his face, blowing gently in the Gulf breeze.

He stopped before he could get within hugging distance. 

“We need to talk.” His voice was soft, but off. Larry stiffened; he could feel Ashley straightening up beside him. 

“How’re you feelin’?” Travis asked, arms crossing over his chest as he made his way over. Sal gave a shrug in lieu of answering verbally. 

Larry swung his legs around, heels clacking against the plastic crates. “What’s up?”

Sal slowly walked closer, though he slid around Larry, around them all, and instead walked to the edge of the dock. A sense of unease settled like a thick, wool blanket over the group, nearly suffocating them. The wind kicked up over the water, the waves growing choppy. “You haven’t told me the truth. None of you have.” He began, voice surprisingly strong, yet there was an acidic bite to it. 

“Whattya mean?” Ashley asked, playing dumb despite the iron grip she now had on Larry’s hand.

“The empty blood bags beneath the sink in Larry’s apartment.” Silence crept over them all as realization dawned upon them. Larry felt like he was going to be sick. “The fact that none of you ever seem to need to sleep. Your skin is cold. Ashley- you almost hissed the other day when your hand touched a crucifix on your nightstand.” He turned, arms crossed over his chest. “Not the mention literally everything that happened on Halloween.”

“Sal, let us explain,” Robert began, only to be cut off by a surprisingly cold look from Sal.

“No. You don’t get to talk. I’m talking. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I mean, sure, ghosts and spirits and shit is one thing. But vampires?” A humorless laugh left him, and Larry felt a shudder dance across his skin. “Vampires. Fuckin’ vampires! What is this, an Anne Rice novel? I don’t know how to begin to explain what I feel. Anger? Confusion? I have a fuckin’ Shadow following me like a poltergeist and then some- some old bog witch tells me that my mom’s still alive and that she was a vampire, too?”

“Bog witch?” Ashley asked, head tilting to the side. “Whattya mean?”

“I mean there was a woman that was in the swamp and she changed her form and told me some cryptic shit and that isn’t important!” He threw his hands into the air, frustration evident. “You all lied to me! And I don’t even know who I am anymore! My mom’s somehow still alive? I was supposed to die when I was six! Did you know that? I was supposed to die.” The laugh that left him bordered on hysterical.

Larry slid off of the crates, hands held up, palms outward. “Sal, come on. Let’s talk. Okay?”

Sal took a step backward, dangerously close to the edge of the pier. “Stay. Back.”

A grimace swept across Larry’s face, one filled with regret and pain. “Alright, fine. I’ll stay right here.” 

“Tell me everything. Right now.”

“Sal,” Maple began, brows furrowed. “That’s a long story. Why don’t we go back to my place?” She suggested, watching as Sal looked around, his eye narrowing. 

“No.”

“Sal, don’t be stubborn!” Travis exclaimed, shaking his head. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Sal.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes, we’re vampires. Todd isn’t. None of us wanted this. None of us chose this.” Robert spoke, tone firm. “We’ve all been this way for a long time, aside from Ash. She’s the newest one.”

“So you’re killers.” 

That took them all by surprise. No one knew how to really answer that; technically, they had all killed at least once. “That’s… Difficult to answer.” Neil shook his head.

“… Do you know what I am?” His voice changed, sounding suddenly terrified. “The woman didn’t tell me. She said something about drowning and- and rising?” He shook his head, dragging his hands through his hair.

“We don’t know. None of us know. We… We’re trying to figure that out, right now.” Larry admitted.

The boards of the pier creaked behind them. Todd spun around, a surprised noise escaping him. “Azaria?”

“Azaria?” Larry echoed, turning, studying the woman curiously. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Y’all throwin’ a party without me?” She asked, a hand on her hip as she looked them all over. “I’m insulted.” 

“… Azaria…?” Robert took a step closer, eyeing her warily. “What are you doing?”

“You know…” A smile curled crimson lips as she looked them all over. “Green’s an obnoxious color.”

A soft whimper escaped Maple as she shook her head once, twice. 

“A shame, really. We planned on the truck catching fire.” She took a slow step forward. “Would’a made for a better statement, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Horror swept through them all as realization dawned. “You…?” Larry asked, voice tight. 

“Me. Well, not just me.” A shrug as she sauntered closer. “You know, this is perfect. We’re on a pier, it’s cold, a storm’s rollin’ in. Ah, Ashley- you should’a brought your camera!” 

“What did you do?” Ashley asked, voice shaking as she slid off of the crates to place herself in front of Maple.

“You ain’t dumb, sweetie.” Azaria cooed, head tilting to the side as her gaze slid past them all to settle on Sal. “How well can you swim, Sally?”

“What?”

“Get him.” Her lip curled as two Dobermans came bounding down the pier, snarling and growling. The group all panicked, and in that moment, Larry realized just exactly what had happened. Before he could react, the dogs had reached Sal-

And Sal had fallen over the edge of the pier with a piercing scream that was swallowed by the waves. 

Chaos ensued with Maple launching herself at Azaria with a scream that rivaled a Banshee’s. Neil had grabbed a crate and threw it at the dogs, gaining their attention before he took off in a sprint, the dogs chasing after. Robert had joined Maple, cornering Azaria.

Larry backed up before running towards the end of the dock, only to skid to a hault at the imposing figure that now stood there. He wore a black suit, tailored to perfection; dark hair was tied back from lightly tanned skin and eyes that were more red than brown. 

Fear curled in his gut as he took a step back, looking between the man of his nightmares and the water. Sal. He had to get to Sal.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Larry.” He chuckled, lips spreading into a wide grin as Maple let out a new scream, one filled with pain. Ashley yelled in alarm, and Todd had taken off in a run after Neil. 

Travis made a decision, then. He climbed over the railings; Larry could see him in the corner of his eye as he dove into the murky waters of the Gulf of Mexico. 

“It’s been a while, Red.” Larry replied, voice far too shaky to come off as anywhere near confident. “Sad to see you still have your head.”

“Oh, this?” Red reached up, fingers dancing along the scar across his throat. “You didn’t cut deep enough last time.”

A gunshot sounded, loud and clear, and Larry dropped to the ground. Red let out a pained grunt as he fell back into the water. Azaria, her face bloody and Larry was fairly certain part of her jaw bone was exposed, used the confusion to slip away. Maple clung to her arm, where deep red blood seeped slowly. 

Neil jogged toward them, panting lightly. “Borrowed yer gun,” he said to Ashley, who nodded.

“Sal- where’s Sal? Travis!” Robert yelled, running to the edge of the dock to peer over the edge. Travis was there- but Red had vanished, and Sal… “Where is he?”

“I don’t know!” Travis yelled back, shaking his head as he struggled to stay afloat. “I’m swimmin’ to shore!”

“Sal isn’t with him?” Larry asked, eyes wide in fear. 

“No.” Robert shook his head as he helped him up to his feet. “… Red.”

“Red knew.”

“Azaria was working for him this entire time.” Maple growled, teeth bared. “She killed Chug.” They made their way off of the dock quickly, meeting a sopping wet and shivering Travis, who shook his head.

“There was a boat.” He pointed towards the Gulf. “Red fell into it. There were some people in it- and Sal. I saw Sal, but he was unconscious.” 

“Sal was unconscious? Are you sure?” Ashley asked as she tugged her sweater off to wrap around the deep gashes in Maple’s arm.

“He was limp. I tried to get to him, but I…” He shook his head, tears filling his eyes as Robert pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“… What the fuck are we gonna tell Henry?”

Larry shrugged, looking towards the dark horizon, eyes narrowed. “I dunno. But I’m gonna go visit a fuckin’ swamp witch.”

* * *

???/??/1992  
??:??

* * *

His head ached, his lungs burned, and his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. A groan pulled free as he came to, rubbing at his face. He was warm, and the bed beneath him was soft. The sheets were silken. Slowly, he cracked open his eye, looking around the room. It was vaguely familiar; the bed he was on was a four poster.

The door opened.

He sat up quickly, chest heaving, as he stared at the woman in confusion. He’d been at the dock. He’d been confronting Larry about… About what he was. What they were. And then… And then…

He shook his head, brows furrowing. She looked like… Like his mom, but not. Her skin was too pale, her eyes too blue. But that scar…

“Hello, Salvador.” Diane spoke softly, lips curling into a smile. “It’s been quite a while.”

Sal opened his mouth, and let out a scream.


	25. Loss of Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise I'm Back.  
> Kidnapped.  
> A shower.  
> Anger.  
> Breakfast of Gods.  
> Light Em Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm alive. I took a break from writing because I was bordering on the verge of burnout and that's Not Good. But I'm back. This chapter is kinda short, I apologize, but the next chapter is gonna make up for it. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and leaving kudos/comments!   
> You can come scream at me about this at-  
> https://fakexface.tumblr.com

January 17th, 1992   
6:30 p.m.

* * *

They arrive to find the Fisher’s apartment door open, the top hinge broken. The claw marks on the outside send a chill down Ashley’s spine as they creep inside, Larry going first. Robert splits, stalking towards the bedrooms. He kicks open Sal’s bedroom door before crossing to the bathroom, poking his head inside. The last room, Henry’s, is trashed.

The rest of the apartment is in a similar state. Larry drags a hand through his hair as the group stands, surveying the damage. “Henry’s gone.” Larry speaks up, sounding almost lost as he turns in a slow circle, confusion painted across his face.

“They took him.” A voice pipes up. As if choreographed, they all turn, staring down the… Creature that sat upon the couch, watching them. It’s features were far more defined compared to the first time Robert had seen it; he could make out a nose, cheekbones, hair- hair, long hair. 

“Who took him?” Robert asked, stepping closer in curiosity. 

“The woman with the braids and the fat man.” It replied, and- yes. There was a fuzzy little creature sitting on its lap, looking up at him.

“Azaria and Charlie.” Larry shakes his head, arms crossing over his chest. “Do you know where?”

“No.”

“… Did you try to stop them?” 

“I can’t.” It shrugged, reaching out to touch Robert- only for it’s hand to simply pass through him. “I don’t have a physical form- not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet.”

“When will you?” 

“Soon.”

Ashley groaned, throwing her arms into the air. “Well, shit. We don’t have any leads-”

“Yes you do.” It rose, and Salem jumped down, coming to twine between Larry’s legs and scream to be picked up. He bent over and lifted the cat, who promptly clambered up to curl around his shoulders like a living scarf. “Where this all began.”

“Where what all-…” Realization dawned. “The manor.”

Maple was the first one out of the door. They all followed, with Neil trying (and failing) to replace the door. Larry didn’t even bother taking all of the stairs; he leaped over the railing and landed in a crouch, grimacing at the pain that shot up from the soles of his feet. 

“Wait- mom. I need t’check on her!” He called, watching as Maple nearly fell over from stopping so suddenly. She nodded, and as they made their way, Larry paused at the door to Terrance’s office. He glanced over at Robert, who gave a single nod. Together, they raised a leg, and kicked the door in. It broke free, the lock falling to the ground with a metallic _‘clink’_. The office was empty.

Lip curling in a snarl, Larry stalked around the side of the building, ready to spill blood, only to freeze in his steps. The door was wide open. The truck was still there. But the door was wide open. Fear brought tears to his eyes as he took off in a sprint, leaving them behind. He paused at the entryway, brows furrowed. 

The apartment was ruined. And Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

???

* * *

“At least he’s stopped screamin’,” Azaria mumbled as she leaned against the doorframe, watching as Diane stroked a scarred hand through her son’s hair, a tender expression on her face. “Blood moon’s comin’ up in a few days.”

“I know. I know… And then, all will be well. We will be together.” Diane sighed, rising from the bed with that ages old grace she held. “You’ve done well, Azaria. This couldn’t have been completed without you.”

A wicked grin curled ruby lips. “Anythin’ for you two. I owe y’all my life.” A shrug of thin shoulders before she pushes away from the door. “Y’all know they’re gonna come after yens, right?”

“Oh, we know.” Pale blue hues sharpened with an anger Azaria still wasn’t used to seeing. “Why else do you think we’ve taken so much from them?” Henry and Lisa, who were being kept in the basement. Lisa, who should be losing control of her thirst soon. Henry, who had been less than pleased to see her. How rude, honestly; over a decade passes, and he can’t show a little bit of happiness at the sight of his wife? “You’ll wanna be long gone by that time- ‘less you plan on stayin’?” 

Azaria shrugged, brow quirked. “Ain’t like I got anythin’ better to do, y’know?”

“Smart girl.”

* * *

???

* * *

The next time he woke, daylight was just starting to spill through the curtains. He was still in the same bedroom, but he was alone. Quietly, he climbed out of the bed and turned slowly; all of Maple’s belongings had been moved out, leaving it barren. How long had he been here? He didn’t know. But his stomach was growling, and his head hurt, and his throat was parched. He made his way into the en suite bathroom, pausing to take in his appearance. His hair was a mess, his mask was gone, he was still wearing the same clothes. Maybe some of Maple’s clothes had been left? He needed to shower.

… He needed to shower badly.

As the water heated up, Sal took a moment to reflect; his mother was alive- or, not alive, but alive. She’d kidnapped him. Azaria tried to kill them. And he was now outside of New Orleans in Maple’s house, most likely locked inside the bedroom with no chance of escape. 

Shit.

He tugged off his clothing and stepped into the warm spray of water, a sigh of relief leaving him. There was still shampoo and conditioner and body wash in the shower stall, thankfully. His hair was tangled; it hurt to comb his fingers through. Wincing, he tilted his head back, letting the water work through the mess. Was Larry safe? Were they all safe? He didn’t know. Dad? Lisa? 

Were they all safe?

His stomach growled again. 

Body washed quickly, he grabbed a towel and dried off before wandering out of the bathroom, only to pause. A fresh set of clothes (underwear included!) had been set on the bed- which had been made- and a covered tray of what could only be breakfast by the smell of it. He swallowed dryly, glancing towards the shut door, before dropping his towel and grabbing the fresh clothes- a pair of pressed black dress pants and a white button down that made him think vaguely of pirates by the full bishop sleeves. He didn’t put the shirt on, not yet.

Instead, he climbed onto the bed and removed the tray cover. His stomach roared in celebration at the sight of the food. An omelet with peppers and onions and cilantro, bacon, a sliced tomato, and toast sat before him. A cup of orange juice sat off to the side. 

He didn’t hesitate in digging in, downing the food like a starved dog. Who made it all, he didn’t know. How they knew he liked to eat sliced tomatoes with salt, he also didn’t know. Maybe that was just a southern thing. But it was warm, and filling, and flavorful, and he could almost break into tears. Rather than do that, he drained the glass of orange juice before sitting back with a sigh, stomach so full he felt ready to burst.

Grabbing the shirt, he pulled it on, buttoning it up before looking for a pair of socks. Nothing. His attention turned to the chest of drawers, and after clambering off of the bed, he reached it. It felt weird, going through Maple’s drawers, but he needed socks. His feet were cold! He grabbed the first non-fuzzy pair and pulled them on a moment before the sound of a lock unlocking filled the room.

So the door was locked. From the outside.

Dread settled like an iron ball in the pit of his stomach as he turned, watching as Azaria poked her head in. She seemed surprised that he was already done. She slipped in, closing the door behind her. Silence filled the room, so tense, so thick. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” Sal broke the silence, arms crossing over his chest. 

Azaria shook her head, brows furrowing. “You don’t have all the pieces of the story, Sal.”

“I know enough. You were close to Travis. What happened? What changed?” He asked, watching as she crossed over to the bed to grab the breakfast tray.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She huffed, placing her hands flat upon the tufted duvet. “I owe your mamma and your uncle my life. They’s the real reason why I survived. Not Travis. Travis was just convenient.” 

“So,” Sal began, eye narrowing, and it occurred to him that he was missing his prosthetic eye in that moment, “you mean to tell me that all these years spent with them- mean nothing?”

“That ain’t what I’m sayin’! Don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” Azaria shot back, baring her teeth. 

“It sure does sound like it.”

She grabbed the empty tray and stood straight, jaw clenched. She didn’t respond as she left, boots tapping out a harsh staccato with each footfall. The door was jerked open, and before Sal could even move, it was pulled shut and locked with a ‘click’.

He didn’t even get to ask what day it was.

* * *

January 24th, 1992  
8:45 a.m.

* * *

“They’s there, alright.” Travis muttered as he crouched low, watching as Azaria loaded up a truck. “Looks like they won’t be there for long…”

“We gotta tell Larry.” Ashley whispered, pulling her hood up around her head. “They can’t leave.”

“… Go back to town, Ash,” he clenched his jaw, gaze trained firmly on Azaria’s movements. “Go tell Larry an’ all o’ them what we saw.”

“I ain’ leavin’ you.” Ashley replied with a shake of her head. “Lemme stay.”

“Ashley-”

“And what do we have here?” Came a soft voice, cooing. “Two little birds.”

Ashley spun around, eyes wide at the sight of Diane. Travis hissed, grabbed his knife, stood up, placing himself in front of Ashley. 

“Oh, don’t do that. I ain’t gunna hurt ya!” Diane smiled, though it lacked any sort of warmth. “I just wanna give y’all a warnin’. You move, and we kill Lisa. And Henry.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t?” She tilted her head to the side, brows furrowing. “I done missed once, but I won’t miss again. Go on, now. Git. Before I get Red.”

Ashley didn’t have to be told twice. She grabbed onto Travis’ arm and tugged him away, careful to avoid fallen branches or twigs as they made their way back to the truck. Diane remained where she was, dressed in a pale blue gown, watching them leave. Neither one spoke until they were out of her sight, and only then did they break into a run, stumbling over roots and snapping branches with every other footfall. 

Travis reached the truck first, fist banging on the hood. “Sonuvabitch!” He yelled, startling a bird from it’s nest, causing it to take flight. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Ashley asked as she pulled open the passenger door.

Travis shook his head, pulling open the driver’s side door before climbing in. “We’s gonna do what every farmer does when their crop is spoiled. We’re gonna light those fuckers up.”


	26. Light 'Em Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark.  
> Guns Are Dangerous.  
> Ouch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been a little over a month since I last updated; apologies. If you can't tell, there are three new works on here for a different fandom that I'm working on (slowly). I haven't abandoned this piece! But I'm also working & taking classes again. So, updates will be slow, especially as we near the end of this whole thing. Final ten chapters, here we go.   
> This is where things go downhill. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! It's amazing how many of y'all have read this. I'm in awe, and getting all the messages and anons and asks from y'all on tumblr just makes my heart soar.   
> You can find me at: https://fakexface.tumblr.com where you can scream at me for what I've done in this chapter. I'm sorry.  
> Also, if you like the Swedish satanic rock band Ghost, go check out the other works I have posted for them!

_Burn everything you love-_  
 _Then burn the ashes._  
- _My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark_ , Fall Out Boy

* * *

January 24th, 1992  
10:32 a.m.

* * *

“They’re movin’?” Maple asked as she tugged the pallet over, the sound of wood scraping against cement echoing throughout the old building. They’d relocated to the safehouse for the time being- it was better that way, to keep the residents of Addison Apartments safe, to keep blood off of the streets of New Orleans. “Where to?”

“I ain’t a mind reader, Maple,” Ashley huffed, arms crossing over her chest. Behind her, Larry worked on finding enough ten gallon barrels to fill with gas. “But they was movin’ fast.”

“They know we know where they’re holdin’ him,” Travis added, standing up with a sigh. “We’ll have to act tonight if we wanna catch them by surprise. Diane- and Red- they won’t expect us to be this together already.”

“They done pissed off the wrong people.” Robert grumbled as he helped Maple lift the pallet onto the bed of Larry’s truck. “And the wrong witch.”

“You sure this gonna work?” Maple asked, brow raising as she watched Robert lather the wooden planks in starter fluid. 

Robert shrugged, pausing, “I mean, if it don’t, we’s still gonna light ‘em up. You sure you okay with that place burnin’?”

All movements stopped. Maple rubbed at her arm, lips screwing up as she shrugged. “I mean, I won’t have to worry about upkeep anymore, right? And there’s… That land is blood soaked anyways. Better to let it burn and then fade into the night than to let it keep on livin’.”

Larry nodded silently in agreement as he tossed the empty barrels into the back of Ashley’s truck. It could all burn- Diane and Red and Azaria and Terrance. Let them go up in flames, right along with the mansion. They just needed to get to Lisa and Henry and Sal-

Sal. Sal, who possibly has a much bigger role to play than any of them realize.

“Isn’t tonight a blood moon?” Neil suddenly asked, watching as Robert jerked up, his eyes widening in a mixture of fear and surprise. 

“… Go get them barrels filled.”

* * *

January 24th, 1992  
12:13 p.m.

* * *

“Lisa?” Henry asked, watching as she lurched forward. “Lisa, are you alright?”

“Hungry,” she mumbled, though her voice was distorted, as if she was chewing on jerky. “Hungry, so hungry.”

“Lisa, what are you eating?” Henry almost didn’t want to know the answer. Lisa looked up, and the motion tore the skin on her arm- the skin that was clenched between her teeth. Skin she was _eating_. Blood dripped, splattering a little. Alarmed, he started forward, only to pause as she began to claw at her stomach, chest, throat. “Lisa- Lisa, calm down!”

_“HUNGRY.”_

* * *

January 24th, 1992  
2:45 p.m.

* * *

Sal stood in the middle of the dining room, staring at the face of the man who had ruined so many lives. His mother sat beside him, wearing a powder blue gown. She looked like she’d been plucked from the fifties, with her hair braided perfectly and her makeup applied with a steady hand. 

The makeup didn’t do anything for the scar that marred the right side of her face. 

“We’re leaving,” Red spoke, finger slowly circling the brim of a wine glass filled with a red liquid he knew was not wine. “We need to go farther north, towards Vicksburg.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sal shot back, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Diane replied, voice little more than a coo as she stood. “If you don’t go with us, then your father will die.”

Sal froze, eye widening. His blood was like ice in his veins. “Why?”

Diane crossed the dining room, heels like sharp staccato notes, harsh upon his ears. “Because,” she began, leaning down to be face-to-face with him, “you don’t want your father to die, do you? If you don’t come, I’ll slit his throat, and he’ll be my next meal. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She mused, dragging a nail across his throat. “He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sal repeats, gaze lifting to meet hers, “because if you do, I will kill myself. And then- what will happen? You lose your son, your future.” Diane hisses at him but takes a quick few steps back. “Didn’t think you’d like that.”

“He has your wit, Diane,” Red mused, watching as Sal stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Shame he doesn’t have the same strength.”

“His father was always weak.”

“Don’t talk about dad like that!” He snapped stepping forward, only to freeze as the door to the left opened-

And Henry walked out, his hands covered in blood, his shirt soaked with the crimson substance. Tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees- he didn’t even see Sal, he realized. He was staring at the floor as if he could see right through it. 

“Dad?” He asked softly, brows furrowing. “Dad, who’s blood is that?” 

“She just… She just started screaming.” His voice shook as he spoke, tears streaking through the blood that coated his cheeks. It looked like he had bathed in it, as if he’d stood beneath a shower and let it wash over him. “She started screaming and clawing at herself, and I tried to stop- I tried to stop her. But she was hungry. She kept saying she was hungry, and- and- and oh, no,” he moaned, holding his head in his hands as the nightmare he’d lived replaying over and over before his eyes. “She just started clawing at herself…” 

“Who?” 

“Lisa.”

* * *

January 24th, 1992  
6:45 p.m.

* * *

The barrels were heavy, full of gasoline that sloshed as they drove slowly over the gravel road. Neil rode in the back with two of the barrels, clutching the barrels to make sure they didn’t topple over. These roads were less used, the grass brushing against the undercarriage of the trucks. Ashley drove behind them, Larry sitting in the bed with the rest of the barrels. Travis turned down the hunting trail before killing the engine. He glanced back, watching as Ashley pulled around him. Maple was in the very back in a rented U-Haul, which held three dirt bikes that would be necessary for tonight. 

Robert reached over, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get them,” he murmured. Travis nodded, even if his stomach was tied into knots. The sun was already setting. 

Ashley jumped out of her truck, Todd slipping out from the other side. Travis and Robert followed suit, slipping out and shutting the doors as quietly as possible. Even if they were five miles from the house, they couldn’t risk it. 

No one spoke as they unloaded the barrels. Ashley passed out bandannas; Robert helped Travis tie it around the lower half of his face. Larry tied his hair up into a high ponytail before tying on the bandanna, the print of the lower half of a skull covering the lower half of his face. If anyone saw them, surely they’d think they were crazy, all dressed in black clothing, long sleeves and pants and boots and gloves. 

Maple unlocked the back of the U-Haul; Neil climbed in, looking over the bikes before turning. “So, who’s doing what?” 

“I’ll ride.” Larry climbed up, a gas can clutched in one hand. “Ash, got my back?”

“Yep,” She climbed up, grinning as she took the gas can from him. “Robert, Travis?”

“You know it.”

“Which leaves Maple, Neil, and Todd…” Ashley mused, arms crossing over her chest. 

Neil had already taken a seat on one of the bikes. “I’ll go alone. Someone gotta grab Sal, right?”

Larry nodded. “Ash, you ready?” Ashley hummed as she jumped out of the back. Carefully, they unloaded the bikes. “So, game plan?”

“Someone needs to go around with the gasoline, someone else needs to start the fire.” Todd shifted, leaning against the side of the U-Haul. They were losing daylight, fast.

“I’ve got the field,” Maple spoke up, grinning, as she made her way towards Ashley’s truck. “You don’t mind if I go rough?”

“I like it rough!” Ashley called back, snickering as she pulled her bandana up over her nose. She climbed on behind Larry, one arm looping around his waist, the other clutching the gas can. She glanced over, watching as Neil and Todd embraced. This was… Dangerous. Very dangerous. She didn’t want to think about what could happen, what could occur. This could go horribly wrong. They could die. Sal could die. Someone could get hurt. They could all get captured. 

Maple climbed into Ashley’s truck, and she was off. She knew these grounds better than any of them.

“Take my truck back to the main road. Pull off to the side, and hide.” Larry ordered as he tossed his keys to Todd, watching as the redhead nodded. “If we ain’t back in an hour, go. Drive back to the city, and hide out at Travis’s.”

“My key’s under the flowerpot to the right of the door,” Travis called before Robert started up the bike. He wrapped an arm around his waist, the other holding onto the bag that was squashed between his front and Robert’s back. Within in sat bottles filled with lighter fluid and stuffed with rags. Molotov Cocktails. 

Todd pressed a kiss to Neil’s cheek, whispered a little prayer, and jogged back to Larry’s truck. He climbed in, gave them all one last look, before he began to back out of the trail. Neil shook his head as he pulled his bandana up, covering the lower half of his face.

“We’ll go in first from the south. Maple should be spreadin’ the gas in the field now. Neil, go in from the main road. We’re cutting through the forest,” Larry explained as the bike rumbled to life beneath him. Nods all around, he revved the motor before the wheels spun, kicking up dirt and mud before he took off.

* * *

7:15 p.m.

* * *

Sal’s hands were tied behind his back, and a gag was tied around his head. He sat, watching as Diane and Red loaded up the truck. His father sat behind him, no longer covered in Lisa’s blood- he didn’t even want to know what she’d done to end up spilling that much blood. Azaria was helping, not looking at him. 

Sal sighed, shifting, wincing at the way it pulled at his arms. Terrance jogged down the steps with his zombie, Charlie. No one would tell him what the hell was _wrong_ with Charlie, only that he wasn’t _right_. Something had gone wrong. 

He had almost given up all hope when something lit up the night sky. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t the sun coming back up, but rather, a fire. A very big fire, that was spreading rapidly through the field across from him. If he could smile, he would have. Instead, he lurched forward, onto his knees before managing to stumble to his feet.

“What in the Sam Hell-” Red cursed, voice cutting off as an explosion suddenly rocked the field. 

They had come for him.

* * *

7:14 p.m.

* * *

Maple had turned both barrels over as she drove through the field. She’d filled the deep grooves in the ground with the flammable liquid before she rolled the barrels out a hundred yards from one another, a trail of gasoline connecting them. And then, she’d lit a match, and ran back to the truck, climbing in and barely closing her door before she floored it towards the county road that was paved, another little way out of the city and into the country. There, she sat, counting down until-

The first explosion lit the night sky, the dry wheat of the field catching quickly. 

She grinned as she watched. “Serves you right, you old fuck.”

* * *

7:16 p.m.

* * *

The forest floor was a pain to drive over, but they made it, with Ashley’s face pressed to the space between his shoulders. When they finally reached the edge of the property, she uncorked the gas can and tilted it over as Larry drove around the outer edge. From here, she could see Azaria, frozen in place as she watched at the side of the house. Larry leaned forward as they turned sharply, driving straight for the house. They could feel the heat of the flames coming up behind them, Travis having set it right on time. 

Someone was screaming. It might be Diane. She didn’t care.

She chucked the gas can onto the back porch before throwing her lighter. She hoped Sal had already gotten out. She hoped everyone was out. But they could only hope, now, as the flames raced towards the house. 

Robert and Travis raced past them, a Molotov cocktail in hand. Travis reared his arm back before launching it forward, hitting the garage. The roof burst into flames upon impact. Robert cheered as they both turned together, curling around the side of the house.

Diane was there, holding a gun. But Larry was prepared; he hunkered down as Ashley raised her handgun, firing off twice, causing Diane to duck behind the side. Robert sped ahead of them, turning sharply and chasing down Diane, nearly running her over if she hadn’t pressed herself to the side of the house.

Diane screamed in pain as Ashley managed to land a final shot in her left knee. Ashley cheered as she dropped to the ground, clutching at the now-shattered kneecap. Larry turned to the left quickly, avoiding Charlie’s reaching hands just barely. And then-

* * *

7:20 p.m.

* * *

Chaos. Pure, utter chaos had erupted. It had been enough to knock Henry into action. Sal and his father both stepped away from the house, watching as flames licked up the southwestern corner. There was fire eating away at the backyard; the garage was consumed in fire. A laugh bubbled up, swallowed by the cloth gag as he turned, watching as Larry and Ashley circled back around. Their eyes met-

His world was suddenly turned upside-down, the wind knocked from him as Azaria tackled him. “Stop fightin’ me! I’m tyrna’ help!” She hissed as she kept him pinned. “Let them get yer pa outta here, Sal!”

Henry. Eye wide, he looked over, watching as Neil grabbed Henry and pulled him onto the back of the bike before speeding off, his father nearly falling off before he figured out how to hold on. Robert was yelling- something happened, but he couldn’t turn his head to see. Was Travis okay?

Gunshots rang out, and then another yell- Ashley. That was Ashley yelling. Ash! He struggled to get up, but Azaria kept him pinned. “No, stay down, Sal, unless you want Red t’kill ‘em all!”

That had him freezing, heart hammering in his chest. Azaria hauled him up, and he was able to get a glimpse of Larry, wide eyed and with blood splattered across his chest. Not his blood- no, there weren’t any wounds on him. Who’s? 

He didn’t get to ask as a hood was jerked over his head, and then he was thrown into the covered back of the truck.

* * *

7:45 p.m.

* * *

Robert’s hand was fucking ruined. Travis could see bone, the hold nearly taking up his entire palm. The shotgun blast could have done even more damage if he hadn’t moved in that moment, then he’d be on the ground. Red had grabbed the shotgun out of the house before it was consumed in flames. 

Travis pushed the bike to it’s limit, speeding down the dirt road until the sight of his truck came into view. Todd perked up from the side, eyes wide at the sight of Travis driving. “Open up door!” He yelled as he killed the bike. Robert groaned behind him as he slid off, clutching his hand to his chest. “Larry’s behind us- where the fuck is Maple?”

“Behind you!” Todd called, pulling the door open so Travis could help Robert in. “What the hell happened?”

“Red.” Travis growled, slamming the door shut to jog back towards the rear of the truck, watching as Maple pulled up, Neil and Henry sitting in the bed of the truck with the bike. “Larry’s not here- why isn’t Larry here?”

“He’s still back there with Sal,” Neil replied as he helped Henry out of the bed of the truck. He looked like absolute _shit_ , his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes. There was the scent of blood that lingered, too, poorly hidden beneath scented soap. It made him wonder just what they did to him to give him such a haunted look in his eyes.

“Henry,” Maple cooed, watching as Henry looked them all over.

“You’re all… Like Diane?” He asked, hesitant. “… Vampires?”

“We are,” Maple answered soflty as Henry nodded slowly, processing this information. “You gonna be alright?”

“Nope.” Henry shook his head, and his eyes rolled back in his skull, and he went down.

* * *

7:49 p.m.

* * *

Larry stood in front of Ashley, an arm out as if that would stop her from advancing. Diane leaned against the side of the truck, gun raised. Red had his shotgun raised, read to fire off the next shot. Sal was in the back of the truck- they could hear him yelling. He’d gotten his gag off somehow, which was good. 

“Where’re you gonna take ‘im?” He asked, watching as Azaria came forward to help Diane into the back of the truck- where Sal was. 

Red smirked, head tilting. “Wouldn’t you like t’know, Johnson? Ya know, someone be missin’ from this lil’ group.”

Ashley tensed up, eyes widening as realization hit her. “Larry- Larry, where’s yer mama?” She asked, backing up, eyes now on the house. The house, which was currently consumed with flames. “Larry- Larry!”

Larry shook his head, grinding his teeth. “Yer lyin’,” but he was walking towards the house as Red watched, looking far too smug. 

“Don’t you smell her blood? It was all over Henry,” Red taunted, lowering his gun. “You know what happens when you starve a vampire, don’t you? They go crazy. They start to do anything to satisfy that craving. Even eating yerself.”

A yell came out of Larry as he suddenly ran forward, grabbing Red by the shoulders and slamming him into the truck behind him hard enough that his skull shattered the driver’s side window. “What the fuck did you do to her?!” His voice cracked as he yelled. Red just grinned, lifting a finger to point towards the house. A scream worked it’s way free of his throat as he shoved him again before pulling away and running towards the house. “Ash- Ashley, help me! Help me!”

Ashley was helpless, watching as Red climbed into the driver’s seat. Terrance and Charlie had climbed into the back; Azaria had taken the passenger’s seat. And then, they were off- but she memorized the license plate, repeating the numbers under breath until that was all she could think of. 

As Red pulled away, Larry fell to his knees, staring at the house as it burned. Tears fell down his cheeks, streaking through dirt and ash. “Momma,” he whispered, shaking. Ashley knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him as he began to sob, a mantra of “Momma” leaving him as the manor, yard, garage, and field burned.


End file.
